Young Defenders Office, Meritas City - September 18th, 2014, 14:15PM

  The ‘standard assessment uniform’ was… basic. Inside the box was a two-piece costume, coloured jet-black with a few white accents across the waist, thighs, and shoulders. I couldn’t tell you what material it was made of - something weirdly plastic and light - but it was clingy; too clingy.

  The other kids’ uniforms had different accented colours; one of the other girls had red while one of the boys had a dark green, so I wasn’t sure if it was designed to match my power aesthetically, as well as physically.

  It had been shaped pretty much perfectly, which was somehow worse; really wasn’t a fan of just how skintight it was.

  Seeing some of the others had a jacket or hoodie over their uniforms, I threw my blue jacket over it. Better to cover up.

  I stepped back out, dropping into one of the chairs that had been set up where other kids were sitting. Counting me, there were eight of us total. I sat down in a chair away from the others, looking ahead, trying to centre myself and keep my nerves in check.

  Before long, I felt someone sidle up next to me.

  “You doin’ ok?” I heard a girl say.

  It took me a second to turn and look at her. She was short, barely an inch over five feet. Squat, with a stockier build, tan skin and dark brown hair. Like me, she was wearing the uniform, though hers had orange accents.

  The thing that stood out to me the most was her eyes; where any other person’s eyes were white, hers were a bright orange.

  “Y-yes, hi. Sorry, I’m S-” I hesitated for a second. Did I use my real name or my ‘hero name’? “Skullgirl.”

  She looked up at me, a gleam in her eye. “Skullgirl? That’s cool as hell!” She said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Call me Spitter.” She said, holding out a hand to shake.

  “Good to meet you, ‘S-Spitter’.” I said, shaking her hand. I could feel the nerves I’d had for the last hour or so relaxing, ever so slightly.

  “So, how you feelin’? Nervous?” She asked.

  “L-little bit, yeah.” I said, wincing. My stammer probably gave away just how nervous I was.

  Spitter leaned back in her seat, arms behind her. “Me too. Gonna be honest, kinda shittin’ it.”

  I blinked, looking at her. “You don’t- you don’t seem nervous.”

  She laughed, almost like a bark. “Don’t I? I feel it, like I’m about to pop any second.” She sat back up, smiling as she looked at me. “Maybe it’s nerves, maybe it’s excitement. I dunno, being a superhero just sounds great, y’know?”

  I looked down. “Y-yeah, absolutely. You see all the heroes doing what they do and you don’t think you’re gonna get powers and become a superhero.”

  I see Spitter looking at me as I talk, seemingly genuinely interested in what I have to say.

  “And I just- I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to do something that makes other people happy, I guess.”

  “That’s cute.” Spitter replied, grinning.

  My train of thought was cut off by Mr. House clearing his throat in the middle of the room. He stood holding a clipboard, looking over at us. As his eyes scanned the room, the others slowly quieted down.

  “Right,” he started, exhaling, “Let me be the first to congratulate you on your progression to the next step of the Young Defenders tryouts.”

  The way he was talking sounded….flat, almost scripted. Like he was reading from a prompter. That, or he’d said it enough times that it was second nature at this point.

  “The next step is known as the Action Assessment, which will be a simulated exercise taking place in one of our Action Rooms. For those not aware, our Action Rooms are designed to simulate realistic and lifelike scenarios to test you and your mettle.”

  He looked up at the room, his expression hard.

  “The simulations are lifelike. Very lifelike. So be warned, you may very well get too immersed into the simulation. Just try to keep a clear head.”

  I looked around at the other candidates; all of them were quiet, though a couple looked more like they were staring at Mr. House rather than actually listening.

  “For this assessment, you’ll be split into teams. The purpose of this exercise is to test you and assess you on fundamental aspects of what we believe will make a true Young Defender: Combat aptitude, teamwork, rescuing civilians, and the ability to prioritise and improvise on the fly.”

  The idea of combat seemed to get people’s attention.

  “After that, the assessment will be considered over. You’ll all be graded based on those aspects, and will be contacted regarding the next step.”

  He tossed the clipboard to the side, where it landed with a loud clattering thunk.

  “You’ll now be assigned your teammates. There’s eight of you here, so two teams of four sounds fair.”

  He coughed.

  “Team A will consist of: Thread, Bunker-Buster…” he audibly sighed. “Weedmaster.”

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  He stared stone-faced at a kid who high-fived a girl next to him.

  “And Swarmkeeper.” Mr. House finished.

  Immediately, the room broke into noise, as people began realising who they were teamed with.

  “Team B will consist of: Leeroy, Sweep, Skullgirl, and Spitter.”

  I felt myself freeze as I heard my name, my heart skipping a beat. This now suddenly felt very real.

  “Hell yeah, we’re together!” Spitter said next to me. She seemed much more excited for this than I felt.

  Mr. House spoke up again as people talked. “Team A, please make your way to Action Room A, Team B to Action Room B. You’ll be given 10 minutes once the doors close to introduce yourselves to each other and strategise.”

  I couldn’t move. It was like my entire body had locked up on me. For whatever reason, this was scaring me; the whole idea of strategising, letting people down, feeling worthle-

  My train of thought came crashing to a halt as Spitter tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Come on, Skullgirl,” she said, smirking. “Let’s go meet our teammates.”

  It took me longer than I wanted to admit to actually walk to Room B. Not because I got lost or anything - it was basically a straight line - but because I was terrified.

  I’d stayed about two steps behind Spitter as we approached the door, with two other candidates: one was almost the same height as me, lean and built like a runner, his costume with green accents. His hair fell just past his shoulders, a dark blonde colour, but seemed to be faintly drifting in the wind despite the room being completely enclosed.

  Behind him was easily the youngest person in our group: he couldn’t have been more than about twelve or thirteen, his costume marked with purple accents. He was probably an inch or so taller than Elena, thin with messy black hair. He didn’t look nervous at all, in fact he was moving so much that he looked like he was about to explode.

  As we stepped into the door, we found ourselves in what looked to be a small break room: a neat dark table in the middle of a room with cream-coloured walls, four chairs surrounding it.

  The youngest one darted to the closest chair before landing on it with a thunk.

  “Ladies first.” The other boy said to me and Elena, smiling.

  “Cheers, dude.” Elena said, slapping him gently on the side.

  “T-thanks.” I mumbled, sitting on one of the chairs.

  An awkward silence hung in the air

  “Well.” The boy with the shoulder-length hair said, finally breaking the silence. “Pleasure to meet all of you, hope we all do well. I think introductions are in order. You can call me ‘Sweep’.”

  The way he spoke, he sounded like he was English. Upper-class, too. He was clearly trying to project a good image, but he sounded posh. Too posh.

  “Sweep?” Spitter asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes, Sweep.” Sweep responded, nodding. “My power is officially listed as ‘Aerokinetic Control’, but I just like to say I can control the wind.”

  That explained why his hair moved the way it did.

  He gestured to Spitter. “You?”

  Spitter smirked, turning to look at each of us. “‘Sup, name’s Spitter. I don’t remember the ‘official’ name for my power but I can hawk up anything I eat or drink at people, like a spitball.”

  I turned to look at Spitter, trying to envision how exactly it looked. I could see Sweep clearly doing the same thing, grimacing at whatever mental image he’d conjured.

  “That’s gross.” The youngest one said, making an exaggerated disgusted face.

  “Oh yeah?” Spitter said, leaning in, clearly playing into it. “What’s your deal, kid? What can you do?”

  “Name’s Leeroy.” He said without missing a beat, before scoffing like he’d said something funny.

  “‘Leeroy’?” Sweep said. “Is that just…your actual name?”

  “What, you think I’m stupid?” Leeroy said flatly, staring directly at Sweep. “No it’s not my actual name.”

  I stared at Leeroy. Something about that name felt…deliberate. Obviously all of our superhero names were deliberate, but his felt like it was the punchline to a joke only he knew about.

  “I can make copies of me.” He continued, smiling widely. “Lots of ‘em too. They don’t stick around for too long but they’re good at doing what I want.”

  Sweep nodded, impressed. Then, the room turned to me. Three pairs of eyes staring at me. I felt tiny all of a sudden.

  “And you?” Sweep said, smiling.

  “Sk-...Skul-....Sku-”

  My voice died in my throat.

  Fuck.

  I froze. This stammer, this fucking stammer.

  Whenever I got too excited, or my nerves got the better of me, I locked up. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to speak, I did. But I couldn’t, as if my brain and mouth had fallen out of sync.

  I felt the entire room shift, all three staring at me. Was it pity? Embarrassment?

  I took a breath, paused, then tried again. “Skullgirl. C-call me Skullgirl.”

  A silence hung in the air, long enough that I could feel myself become acutely aware of it.

  Spitter piped up. “Rad name, by the way.”

  “I-in terms of what I can do,” I said, holding up my right hand, “I c-can manipulate and reshape my bones. Make them harder, shape my hands into claws. I’ve had a b-bit of practice with it but I’m s-still working out the best ways to use it.”

  The energy in the room immediately shifted. Leeroy and Spitter looked at me with looks of what felt like…awe?

  “You can reshape your bones?” Spitter said, astonished. “That’s gnarly as hell!”

  “What kinda things can you turn them into?” Leeroy asked, looking like he was about to take off. “A bone sword? Bone hammer? Armour? Gun?” Each suggestion felt like he was physically getting closer to me.

  “I’ve n-not…” I paused for a second. What could I turn my bones into?

  Sword was a no-brainer.

  Hammer, technically yes but more like the head of a hammer.

  Armour felt like it would hurt to make.

  A gun? How would that even work, with that many moving parts.

  Sweep raised a hand. “Sorry to cut in - though I will admit I’m very intrigued to see that up close,” he said with a slight smirk, “We need to work on a rough strategy on how we’re going to do this.”

  The energy in the room settled as we all looked at him.

  “Well,” Spitter said, “Mr. House said it was gonna be a bunch of things, right? Combat, rescue, improvising?”

  Sweep nodded. “Right. So my thinking is: we’re a team of four. Perhaps start with having two of us focusing on rescue and two of us focus on combat?”

  The three of us looked at each other, nodding. Question was, who did what?

  We spent a lot of the next five minutes deliberating.

  In Spitter’s case, she’d said her power was very versatile so long as she ate and drank the right stuff.

  “I kept a lot of shit on me, just in case.” She’d said with a mischievous grin, before reaching down the front of her costume and pulling out a little container of edible glue and another container of edible ball bearings.

  Sweep and I just looked at her, incredulous.

  Sweep opened his mouth. “How did you even-”

  “I know how to store stuff.” She said with a shrug. “Girls’ pants don’t have great pockets, so I had to learn.”

  As for Leeroy, we figured that his cloning could be good for either…

  “They’re stupid. And if they can’t do what I want they just melt without doing anything.” He’d explained, clearly irritated by that weakness.

  …but we realised that combat could be easier for them.

  We all realised Sweep was the most mobile. Being able to control wind meant he could also propel himself in the air, so he could reach people easier. He didn’t object; if anything it felt like he’d wanted to be away from combat.

  And as for me?

  “I-I don’t know how useful I’ll be at saving people…” I’d admitted, sheepish.

  “Settled, then.” Sweep said, almost like he was cutting me off. He clearly enjoyed taking on a leadership role. “Spitter and I focus on rescue, you two focus on holding back whatever they throw at us.”

  Almost as if on cue, a loudspeaker blared to life, making us all jump.

  “Team B, 30 seconds until the start of your assessment,” Mr. House’s voice crackled.

  We all looked at each other. Leeroy practically leapt out of his seat where Sweep seemed to move with an almost practiced elegance. I didn’t move. I felt like I was about to be sick.

  Spitter tapped me on the shoulder. “Come on, Skullgirl,” She said with a wink.

  “Showtime.”