AN: So this story idea has been on my mind for a long time. I'm a huge fan of superhero stories and have always wanted to write something like this. If you all like it, maybe I'll pursue this world further. Huge thank you to Empress Akitla for the encouragement to go for it when I first pitched the story and for the continues inspiration through the amazing "Dragons" AU (seriously, go read it if you haven't). Also, thank you to OrionLady who always provides encouragement and excitement in equal measure.
Alright, enough chitchatting. Buckle up, it's gonna be a wild ride. ;)
"Tell me a story."
A low bemused chuckle accompanied the rustling of blankets and creaking mattress. "What'll it be tonight? Dragons, pirates, mermaids, wizards - -"
"Superheroes. Y'know, the elites."
"You've heard this one a thousand times!"
"Pleeeease?" Imploring, yet triumphant. The child already knew victory was at hand, as proven by the sigh that followed.
"Fine, alright. Then you go to sleep!" Giggles from the intrepid youth accompanied their guardian's dry order. "Now, where do we start?"
"At the beginning, silly!"
"Right. The beginning, then..."
Elites have existed since the dawn of time itself.
People referred to them by many different names through the years. The ancients called them gods, though that's not entirely accurate. Yes, they possess great power over things both seen and unseen. Yet despite all their gifts, elites are still fundamentally human. Mortal. Fragile in their own way. They didn't create the world, they merely exist in it like everyone else.
Others called them wizards, witches, possessed - also falling short of the truth. Their power, though mystifying and immense, isn't magic. It's… something else; something unique and innate in each individual from birth to death. This power isn't learned or created, and you won't find it in some musty spellbook. Nor do the elites have a choice in their level of power and ability - or having power at all. Blessing or curse, it is bestowed on them by no merit or decision of their own.
Like magic, however, the use of the power upsets the balance of the world. The debt then falls to the user - the elite who dared disrupt - to pay to rebalance the system.
And they pay dearly.
Some scientists toyed with the term 'mutant,' but it was perhaps the least accurate of the names. An elite's genetic profile is completely unremarkable and indistinguishable from an ordinary human. Nor do their bodies possess any… well, 'additional features.' For years, scientists have sought to understand something beyond comprehension. There's no genetic link or trends for elites nor is there a traceable cause for their manifestation. Like all humans, they simply 'are.'
Laughably, ordinary citizens in the modern age briefly landed on 'superhero,' which was less than an ideal description. For elites are not prone to being all that super or particularly heroic, though some choose to be. Many people live side by side with an elite without knowing. And while some choose paths of great good or great evil, that has more to do with their personality rather than their power.
In the end, the different sectors arrived at a common term: elites. It somehow encompassed the high skill-set hidden in an unimpressive package. Human and not - somehow more than the mere man.
And if there's one thing that enthusiasts and skeptics agree upon, it's that elites are gifted with something that separates them from everyone else.
"C'mon, Mom, get to the good part!"
"Well, keiki, you did say to start at the beginning."
"Yeah, but I didn't mean the very beginning. History's boring."
A bemused chuckle earned an eyeroll from the little girl. "Ah, but history is the most important part of this story. If you want to understand what exists in you, then you need to know what has come before."
"Why do I need to know the history?" she grumbled. "They're all dead anyway."
The mother raised an eyebrow, not bothering to argue on a topic that was clearly discussed many times before. "History helps you know yourself and know others, as well as avoiding mistakes committed years ago by people just like you. Being an elite is full of unknowns, and the wisest are always certain to not repeat errors."
As time went on, categories formed in common vernacular. Purebloods and mixed became ways to describe an elite's power level. Elementals, Anthropomorphics, and Dimmensionals describe an elite's power type. And there are a great many classifications beneath those. Elites are still human, after all, and they seek to know themselves, be known, and compare themselves to others.
Because even among elites, a hierarchy exists.
For not all power is equal - in both scope and design. Some have the ability to command the untamable - from the wind to the will of a man - while others merely sense it. The vain see their greater ability as superiority, an elevation above the natural world and those who inhabit it. But in their thinking, they fail to grasp the basic truth of power.
True strength lies not in divinely-gifted abilities, but in the person who wields them. Even with all the power in the universe, those who lack understanding of it gain mere trinkets at the cost of their soul.
So while the most powerful elites possess the strength to change the flow of the world around them, they must learn how to use it. Elites connect with a small piece of this universe in a way no one else ever will, but many seek to control that connection rather than submit to it. It isn't something to control, but something to nurture - a relationship of sorts.
"So it's like surfing, right?"
A brief pause, then, "Well, yes, just like surfing. You listen to the water and cooperate with it so you can ride the wave. Any attempt to control the waves leads to a wipeout."
"But I can control the water, Mom! Didn't you see me today? The wave was breaking too early for me to catch it, but I held it off." Genuine curiosity mingled with a tad of frustration in the young girl's tone. "I've done it a thousand times before."
"Did you truly control it? Or did it merely respond to your request?"
Eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "I don't get it."
"Always remember, Kono Kalakaua, that you do not rule the water. The waves, they have a mind of their own and they answer to no one. You are separate creations. But if you approach them with humility and grace, their power flows in you. And when you call, they will answer."
The little girl yawned, tugging the covers higher over her chest. "Why me? I'm not very big or very strong."
"Ah, but it's about what's on the inside." She smiled, brushing her daughter's hair back from her forehead. "You are special and that is a gift granted for humility, not strength."
See, the world wants to respond to human will - its stewards. It merely waits for the right person to come along and call.
"Like me?"
"Yes, Kono, like you."
~H50~
The first elites to appear in historical records were the Elementals.
They aren't the most common or the most powerful, but they tend to be the most noticeable. After all, it's rather difficult to miss a man shooting fire out of his hands or a woman soaring through the air. Despite these outlandish abilities, they also tend to be the most grounded of the elites. Even in the way they walk, they emit an air of comfort with the physical world around them.
And why wouldn't they? The physical world is their playground, their home turf. Going against a pureblood Elemental in an environment rich with their specific element is practically suicide for even the most powerful elite.
Water. Earth. Fire. Air.
("Long ago, the four nations lived - -
Well, that's another story from another world for another time, isn't it?")
Many assume that the Elemental purebloods are all the same, but those who believe such tales have never seen one in action. Fire Elementals each use a slightly different fuel source, their flames looking slightly different. One Water Elemental might gravitate toward salt water, another might work best with ice. Some Earth Elementals can bend metal to their will, others can't. To master all aspects of a single element, after all, would only burn out the elite faster like a match; shining bright for a mere moment before sizzling out.
Next, the Anthropomorphic elites made a name for themselves in a world obsessed with war and progress. When people think of 'superheroes,' an Anthropomorphic trait tends to come to mind. Strength and speed, telepaths and empaths, invincibility and genius - the only thing missing is a cape. Any and all things related to the trait of humanity fall into one of the categories in this mixing pot of powers.
Body. Heart. Mind. Soul.
"What does a Soul pureblood do, Kupunakāne?"
"No one knows. Legend says that a Soul elite possessed power over life itself. One could kill a thousand enemies with a single touch, or bring someone back from the dead at will."
"Whoa." Spoken with hushed awe from an energetic little boy. Ten year old boys, after all, tended to see killing as something cool, something noble. They'd yet to be smacked by the harsh reality of death. "I wish I was a Soul pureblood!"
The old man smiled at the enthusiasm of his grandson. "They are myths, keiki. No Soul pureblood has ever existed as far as history knows, as it should be. Humans should not have power over life and death. They are far too sacred to be entrusted to mere mortals. And the cost of such power would destroy any user."
"Oh." The boy seemed rather crestfallen at the revelation. "Then why do we even have the Soul classification at all?" he added peevishly.
"Some mixed elites have a touch of Soul in their composite, but it's rare and more of a curse than anything else. Now stop interrupting the story! You're supposed to be sleeping, remember?"
Last - but certainly not least - the Dimensionals hover in the shadows, avoiding the spotlight with something akin to desperate self-preservation. For Dimensionals, especially purebloods, are both extremely powerful and extremely rare - a dangerous combination. They possess the ability to shape the unseen foundations of the world.
Space. Time. Reality. Energy.
These are the teleporters, timekeepers, illusionists, and conductors. They don't need an element nor must they constantly self-monitor to ensure their powers operate at peak capacity. They can alter the universe with a mere blink. Not only does this make them greatly feared, it also makes them highly coveted targets. The power of a single Dimensional, even a mixed, could wreak catastrophe if possessed by the wrong people.
But in the right hands… well, that power is the stuff of legends.
If one needs proof, they need not look any further than a jolly man in a big red suit who can deliver gifts to the entire world in one night.
"Santa? You made that up! Everyone knows he's not real."
"Do they, now? Well, I suppose this shows why you should never follow the crowd, keiki." The old man dutifully weathered his grandson's baleful glare. "St. Nicolas was a Time Dimensional pureblood, perhaps the greatest to ever live."
"What happened to him?"
"Not even the most powerful of us can live forever. The terms of life are always death."
The young boy thought it through, then hesitantly said, "I don't have any cool powers like that. I'm not even strong in one of the categories. What's the point of having power at all if you can't do anything with it?"
"What is this nonsense I'm hearing?" came the aggravated reply. "Always remember, Chin Ho Kelly, that this power is a gift… that you are a gift. You are Elemental, touched by earth; you are Anthropomorphic, touched by mind; and you are Dimensional, touched by reality. All three are in perfect balance with you."
"So what?"
"So what, so what! You are special because you are the balance, and no one can take that away from you."
One look at the chaos encompassing the world shows a desperate need for balance. But then some come along, some who carry all the differences in the same vessel. They are living proof that harmony can exist.
"Like me?"
"Yes, Chin Ho, like you."
~H50~
The terms "pureblood" and "mixed" for elites have been disputed for eons. Some find them derogatory towards elites, some say they lack scientific vernacular, and others claim them inaccurate. After all, an elite classification has nothing to do with blood chemistry or measurable biochemical components. Additionally, the social justice warriors among the elites squawk about the classist nature resulting from the terms.
Like it or not, the names stuck - most likely because they simply explain the power levels of elites in the most logical way.
A pureblood elite's powers are pure, untarnished by the presence of other traits. They possess one power trait in its rawest form. Meanwhile, a mixed elite's powers are the resultant of multiple different traits combined together. However, the addition of a trait dilutes the potency of the other present traits. Pureblood elites are stronger than mixed because, though they only possess one power, that power is completely undiffused.
As a result, it is nearly impossible for a mixed elite to be as powerful as a pureblood. No power combination is compatible in such a way that maintains the sanctity of each trait.
It's that simple… and that complicated.
See, this school of thought implies that more power traits equate to a lower overall strength of an elite. And for the most part, that's true. Someone with a combination of six traits cannot match someone with only two. However, exceptions always apply and muddy perceptions of elites.
(A speedster, for example, has an incredibly high power ceiling despite his high power trait total of four - Body, Air, Earth, and Space.)
Like most things in life, the power of elites manifests in a sort of cycle. Weaker elites can only impact themselves - a sort of self-preservation, if you will. However, the more potent an elite is, the wider their scope of impact. Some even possess the ability to control the very will of others.
The power ceiling for an elite largely depends on the individual. Some elites' gifts barely manifest due to the dominance of their… well, "humanness." Patience and intentional practice might refine their abilities, but they will never become more powerful.
"It's like football, right, Dad?"
"Is football all you think about?"
"What? It makes sense! Coach Makiota sent his son to, like, three extra football camps and he still can't catch a ball. He's just not an athlete."
The older man thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure. Athleticism plays into how well someone is able to succeed in a sport. You can only be as good as your natural giftedness, no matter how hard you work. It's the same with elites."
Though everyone wishes they were the strongest elite in the history of mankind, the truly powerful will instantly tell you that it isn't worth it. Every system has checks and balances - no power comes without cost. Logically, the cost is proportionate to the power exerted. The weaker elites might not notice the toll their powers take on them, but the effects are debilitating for the strongest. Pain, weariness, even illness, and far worse follow.
For the abilities of the elites, however people view it, are not natural and they are punished accordingly.
But the most important part of the Legend of Elites is this: every elite is unique. No one throughout the entire course of history has an identical skillset - even purebloods. Powers manifest differently or are distributed in different proportions. In this way, elites are similar to snowflakes. You will never find two exactly the same no matter how long you search.
"It's not fair."
"What isn't fair?"
The boy gestured helplessly at himself. "Out of all of the awesome powers out there, I got stuck with the lamest possible skillset! I mean, you can barely tell I have powers at all unless I get into a fight."
"Do you want the whole world to know you're an elite? Is that it? It doesn't give you status, son, or earn you respect."
"No, but how am I supposed to change the world when I'm only… I don't know, ordinary?"
The father snorted and patted his son's head. "You're hardly ordinary; you're an elite, after all!"
"Barely. Might as well just be human."
Eyes boring into the young boy, his voice carried the weight of thousands of fathers teaching their sons before him. "Always remember, Steven J McGarrett, these gifts aren't what make a man great. Sure, the power is nice, but it is nothing without the human spirit. No amount of power can match humanity's stubbornness, compassion, and willpower. And you have that in spades, son, which is why I know you'll be a good man… maybe even a great one."
Shy hope danced in the boy's eyes. "You think?"
"I know. You are special - not because of your power, but because of your humanity."
For elites are fundamentally human, for good or for ill, and the smartest among us know that's not a coincidence. Without the strength of a man's will, ability withers away. Good men have one or the other, but the true heroes must have both.
"Like me?"
"Yes, Steve, like you."
~H50~
From the first elite recorded in history to the most recent, the rest of mankind has shown a rather mixed sentiment towards them.
There are extreme examples of this. The Greeks and Romans worshipped them as deities in ancient days while the Puritans burned them at the stake during the Salem Witch Trials. There've been groups advocating for their protection and rights and others screaming to lock them all up. Some were lauded as heroes of their homelands while others were thrown into POW camps by their own neighbors during the Great Wars of the 20th century.
But there are small examples of this too. Some parents show favoritism towards an elite child while others disown one as soon as their powers manifest. Those same kids are either the playground champions or spat-on untouchables. In the adult world, elites either get promoted or fired on the spot if their abilities become known.
Elites tend to bring out the most volatile emotions in people: love or hate with no in-between. Envy is present in some as well, admiration from others. However, the one emotion they all share is fear.
Much about elites remains a mystery even to elites themselves - though they tend to keep cards fairly close to their chest anyway. And people tend to fear the unknown, especially an unknown able to demolish an entire city in an afternoon.
"How many are there?"
"How many what?"
"Daaad." The word was drawn out in mock annoyance, earning a smile from the father's rather grim face. "Elites. How many are there?"
"It's hard to say, sweetheart. A few different sources think they make up less than 1% of the world's population."
The little girl's face scrunched up in confusion. "So how many?" she insisted.
"I dunno, maybe 7 million? Probably less, actually."
"That's a lot!"
"It's a really big number, isn't it? But guess what? The entire world has like 8 billion people in it."
"Whoa." Hushed awe from the girl.
"Now can I keep going? Or are you gonna keep interrupting?"
In an effort to know the exact number of elites, the United Nations created a registry that catalogues all elites' names, ages, and vague abilities based on a complex scan all children receive at birth. The scan only provides information on if the child is an elite and if they're mixed or pureblood - technology is still rather behind in this regard. Officially, this registry is protected by HIPAA - so no one can access it without express permission from the person in question - and elites are not required to give up the information to any third parties.
But fear is a funny thing. Before all is said and done, many elites register due to coercion from their employer or pressure from a non-elite friend or family member. That same fear allows shady dealings and investigations using this registry in the name of 'security.'
There's no emotion more potent than fear. It leads people to insanity, willing to sacrifice anything to preserve what they hold dear. One thing, however, presents a formidable rival - or ally, depending on your point of view.
Blame.
Since the dawn of creation, blame is the most basic of human instincts. In a world where bad things happen inexplicably on a daily basis, mankind constantly searches for a scapegoat worthy of shouldering all the guilt. Elites perfectly fill that role - they're different, they supposedly have the power to both cause and prevent these things (they don't, but blame is seldom logical), and they're vastly outnumbered.
In any disaster - small or large, personal or international - elites are dragged through the mud. They just sit by while people suffer and die, haughtily scoffing as the ordinary folk futilely fight their 'pathetic' battles. They must not care if they didn't step in and stop them - or at least, that's what people believe in their desperation to explain away this world's faults falling on the undeserving.
Nevermind that those same elites push themselves to the limit to save even a single life.
Sometimes elites disappear. Both official and unofficial channels have been responsible for this, no matter how much officials deny it. The ones who disappear… Well, it never ends in a particularly good way. They're hurt by those who fear them.
"Why, Danno?" With a trembling voice, she searched his gaze. "Why do people want to hurt elites?"
He looked at his little girl, her innocent eyes wide at the harsh reality he'd just shared. "I don't want you to be scared, Monkey," he said, heart breaking for his daughter and the harsh truth she now had to bear. "I just want you to understand the dangers that are out there."
Sniffling, she crawled into his open arms and snuggled against his chest. "But why?" she insisted. "You help people. Why would someone hurt you for helping them?"
"Because they don't understand." He pressed a kiss into the girl's soft, brown hair. "Never forget, Grace, that people don't like what they don't understand. Even the best things that elites do, they see as a threat and try to control it. Which is why we hide what we can do, because we just want to live our lives without someone chasin' us down to lock us up. The world will never accept that, underneath all that power, we're still people too."
"But I don't want you to have to hide your powers! They're the coolest ever! You always said that they made you special."
"Everyone's special in their own way. You, your mom, your grandparents and cousins, your friends - -"
"And you!"
"Yeah, I guess I am special… but no one can ever know."
In a world run by the selfish ignored by the fearful, sometimes hiding is the only way to stay safe. But hiding does not equate to cowering in the shadows. No, elites will always endure and shape this brave new world, helping the helpless and fighting for others.
"Like you, Danno?"
"Yeah, Grace, like me."
~
I'm so incredibly pumped to share this story with you all! Next chapter hops into the Five-0 world we all know and love. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, so please share them! As always, thank you in advance for reading and reviewing. :)