‘A job interview to be a superhero’, was how my dad had described today. And like the last job interview I’d done, the waiting was absolutely killing me.
The waiting room was packed, which I'd heard it always was when the Young Defenders tryouts came about at this time of year. It was large, but there were enough people packed inside - at least fifty that I could make out - that it almost felt claustrophobic; you get that many teenagers in an enclosed space and it couldn’t not feel claustrophobic. Some were chatting amongst themselves, clearly already friends or just very good at making new ones; some clearly as nervous as I was at this point.
As for me, I was trying to be as unassuming as possible; I was sitting off to the side, keeping my head down. I didn’t want to talk to anyone in case I said the wrong thing and somehow blew my chance before I even stepped through the door.
Everything about me was made to be as indistinct as possible; dark hoodie, dark leggings, not looking at anyone, not even making a sound.
I was barely even moving, save for playing with a lock of my hair. It was long, dark, and curly - inherited straight from my mom - and I tended to play with it absently whenever I was especially nervous.
I was trying to calm myself, practicing deep breathing like dad had always taught me, but somehow that only served to make me more anxious. It didn’t help that I could feel how my bones sat in my body, feeling every slight shift.
That last part had become a pretty common feeling since my powers manifested: a keen awareness of my bones, how they sat and moved in my body. It’s like when you become aware of your body breathing or blinking and you start doing it manually, except all the time and across your entire body; anxiety isn’t made any better by the fact that I can feel every slight shift my body makes, right down to my bones.
I looked up, seeing another boy - his skin looking like it was made of jagged obsidian - step out of the interview room, the “first step” of the tryout process; he was what was called a “heteromorph”, someone whose power permanently altered their body in some way to make them look distinctly inhuman.
I saw him walk out of the interview room and into a different door off to the side, which only some of the other kids had gone into; a decent amount had just left, looking sad, mad, or flat-out crying.
“Skye Williams?”
I flinched, my heart almost jumping out of my chest. Hearing my own name had ripped me back into reality; it was my turn, my time.
I looked at the woman who’d called my name, a short woman with a blonde ponytail wearing a dark blazer and skirt.
“They’re ready to see you now, come on through.” She said, giving me a warm smile and nodding. I quickly stood up, making my way towards her. She smiled, leading me inside the interview room.
Compared to the waiting room, it was almost awkwardly quiet; the room itself was plain, just a table and chairs set in the centre and one chair off in the corners of the room behind that table, someone sat in it already.
Seated at the table were two Heroes that I recognised instantly: Crucible and Skate, well-known heroes that were legends in Meritas.
Crucible was huge, or at least the suit of armour he was wearing made him look huge; I clocked him at about seven feet tall in the armour, which was built like a small house. I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel the slight heat radiating off of him. His armour was designed to look like a kind of walking furnace; massive, round, a dark grey with red lines giving off a palpable, glowing heat. Though, thankfully, that heat didn’t seem to be affecting the room itself. He did look very strange sitting at the table, though.
Skate was Crucible’s polar opposite: a short, redheaded woman wearing a costume that almost looked like a figure skater, coloured white and bright pink. She was beautiful, an almost supermodel-esque quality to her.
The two were talking amongst themselves quietly, though I couldn’t make out much of what they were saying. I took a seat in the chair on the other side of the table, the blonde woman sitting in the chair next to me.
As I sat down, trying my best not to shake with nerves, Crucible and Skate looked to me, Skate giving me a toothy smile.
“Skye Williams, right?” She asked.
“Y-yep,” I stammered, before clearing my throat. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Williams.” Crucible said, his voice echoing from within his armour. There was an accent to his voice; Eastern-European, I thought, maybe Russian?
“Y-you too.” I said, before looking past Skate at the other person in the corner of the room. Unlike everyone else in the room, she was probably only a couple of years older than I was; eighteen, nineteen maybe?
She, like Crucible and Skate, was dressed in a costume; a black and gold dress with a golden star on the chest, as well as a golden visor over the eyes. She was looking me up and down slowly, like she was trying to analyse me, and I could tell that she was not impressed.
She locked eyes with me as I looked at her, and I immediately looked away, back to Crucible and Skate.
“So, Skye,” the blonde woman who had led me in said, taking the seat next to me, “I’m Doctor Reynolds. And in case you don’t know them, Crucible and Skate. This is just a verbal interview, like a job interview. We just want to make sure all our records are correct, ask you a few questions, and learn more about you. Ok?”
I nodded, glancing between her, Crucible and Skate, and the girl in the corner.
“Don’t mind her,” Dr. Reynolds said, laughing slightly. “That’s Glory, one of our third-year Young Defenders. She wanted to sit in on a few interviews, but she won’t be part of the process at all.”
I nodded, before turning to Crucible and Skate, trying to hide my nerves.
“So, Skye,” Skate said, leaning forward slightly, “Tell us about yourself”.
I could feel my throat threatening to close up from fear. Dad and I had practiced this so many times, I could not blow this now.
“W-well,” I began, trying not to sound like I was falling apart. “My name’s Skye. I’ve, um… I’ve lived in Meritas my whole life. I-I guess you could say I’m kind of a… a superhero superfan?”
I gave a shaky smile, then pressed on. Any kind of talking like this, especially with people I didn’t know, sucked. My voice got away from me, nerves often making me clam up before I got more than a couple of words in.
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I saw Skate and Crucible nod, jotting down notes on the notepads they had. They seemed interested enough, but I could feel my own words fighting against me. This always happened when I got especially nervous, as if my mouth was too scared to string a sentence together.
I quickly glanced at Glory in the corner of the room; she looked pretty disinterested, not even looking at me or the others.
“So,” Crucible said, his armour-clad fingers making the paper he was writing on look almost comically small, “according to the notes your doctor gave us, your power is based around manipulating your own bones, yes?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I’ve been practicing with it, trying to work out what I can and can't do. I-it seems like I can reshape my bones in almost any way I want; I’ve made my fingers into claws, grown a blade from my arm, m-made little spikes. A-and I’m also…I don’t know how to describe it but, uh, I’m very aware of my bones.”
A long pause goes over the room, and I feel a sudden desire to have the room swallow me whole.
Why that, why did you say that? I thought to myself.
It takes a second for Crucible to respond.
“Do you mind giving us a demonstration of how your power works?” He asked.
“Oh s-sure.” I said, standing. I held out my right arm, flexing. I focused, feeling my radius bone shift and shudder before-
CRACK.
A wet popping cracking sound echoed throughout the room as a long smooth spike of white bone erupted from my wrist. It stretched to a foot long, little specks of blood dotting it like freckles.
I saw Skate flinch. Dr. Reynolds recoiled slightly. She looked a little bit paler than she had a few minutes ago, shuffling back slightly in her chair.
Across the room, I could see Glory perk up; this got her attention.
“Doesn’t that…hurt?” Skate asks, looking at the spike protruding from my arm, though I couldn’t tell if she was grossed out or intrigued.
“N-not really.” I said, trying not to sound too proud. I swung my arm a little bit with the arm-spike now protruding from it. “My d-doctor said that I have some kind of pain reduction power, or something like that?”
Truthfully, it did still hurt whenever my bones broke the skin, but it was far more of a dull throbbing pain than anything close to what my bones ripping a hole in my flesh should feel like.
I saw Dr. Reynolds write up a few notes, somewhat shakily.
Crucible, however, looked intrigued; I couldn’t see his face, but the fact that he was leaning in to look at my arm was a clue. “Your doctor’s assessment tells us some of what you can do, but I imagine you’ve been practicing since then, yes?”
I felt a slight smile come across my face; this? This part I liked.
This time, I flexed my left hand and focused. With a sickening series of wet tearing sounds I felt the finger bones in my left hand extend quickly, each one extending into a long, curved white talon.
I then tensed what was left of my left hand, bringing the talons together before focusing on them, my power fusing them together.
A single long and wide blade, white and jagged, jutted from the mauled remains of my left hand.
“I can also reinforce them, too. T-they’ve become harder since power manifested so they’re harder to break, but I can reinforce them even more if I n-need to.”
I relaxed my arms and took a breath.
The reshaped bones retracted into my body with a grim slurp.
Within a few seconds, the ragged hole in my right arm and the shredded remains of my left hand began to mend themselves, the skin and muscles knitting themselves around the bone.
“Enhanced healing, too?” Crucible asked, looking at my arms.
“Yeah. I haven’t tested much about g-getting cut or b-bruised by other things, but when I do this, I can heal way faster than normal.” I nodded, showing them my left hand, which was just finishing mending the skin. No scars, no scabs, nothing. Same hand as when I started.
Skate cleared her throat. “Your power is uh…impressive, Sam. A little bit grisly, I’ll admit, but impressive. You seem to have a good grasp on it; a little bit of combat training and you could become a nasty close-combat fighter. But having a power is only half of the story of being a superhero; what about you as a person, why do you want to join the Young Defenders?”
I paused. It was a question I knew was coming, but I’d struggled to make up an answer that sounded any good, no matter what me and dad had rehearsed.
“It’s just…”, I started, shakily “it’s been my dream, y’know? L-like a lot of kids, I grew up watching all these amazing heroes and villains, all the flash and power and… everything. But that’s not really w-what I want.”
I paused, swallowing. My fingers curled into my sleeves. “I want to help people. T-to save them. I want someone to look at me and think… ‘I’m safe.’ Like really, actually safe.”
Silence again. I looked up and could see both Crucible and Skate nodding, noting more things down on their papers.
Was it good enough? Did I say too much? Did I not say enough? Was it too cliche? Too-
“So, Skye,” Crucible spoke, making me jump. “We think we want to take you onto the next stage. It’ll be a simulated physical and social assessment, where you and some of the other applicants will be graded on how well you react.”
Beside me, Dr. Reynolds handed me a piece of paper; giving it a quick look, it listed my name, age, and a brief summary of my power:
- Osseopathy (Bone Manipulation), Self
- Accelerated Healing, Self
- Pain Reduction, Self
- Class: Powerhouse
- C-Grade.
“Take that to the next room. Mr. House, one of the instructors, will take over from there. Good luck.” Crucible said, nodding. Next to him, Skate smiled. My eyes scanned over to Glory again; she looked unimpressed.
“Thank you. I-it was an honour to meet you, b-both of you!” I said, perhaps a little too eagerly. I heard Crucible chuckle, the laugh metallic and echoing in his armour.
Dr. Reynolds led me out, pointing me towards the next room.
“Sorry if my demonstration was a bit much.” I quickly said to her before she left. She turned back towards me, smiling.
“Don’t be.” She said, “I’ve seen my share of more…visceral powers, I should’ve seen it coming when I’d read your file.”
As she left, I made my way towards the next room: a small sign had been affixed to it, saying ‘Simulation Assessment’.
Taking another breath in an attempt to calm my nerves, I made my way inside.
This room was similar to the last; large and wide, but it felt more tightly-packed. A set of chairs had been set to the side, with seven other kids sitting in them; some talked with others, some just quietly sat and listened. I saw a few of them look towards me and sharply looked away, trying to find this “Mr. House”.
I saw a muscular man with short black hair look away from the group of other teenagers and towards me, before taking a step over. What struck me at first was, of all things, that he was shorter than me; I was tall for a girl my age - about 5’10”, last time I had checked - and my lean figure apparently made me look taller, but this man was a good three or four of inches shorter than me. He was also dressed incredibly plainly, a plain black t-shirt and white tracksuit bottoms with plain black shoes.
“I-I was told I need to give this to Mr. House?” I said, watching his eyes scan me up and down.
“Yep, that’s me.” He sighed, and it struck me that he sounded drained, almost exhausted. I guessed he’d probably dealt with a few groups of excited or nervous teenagers all day.
He took the paper from me and gave it a look over before moving to a small computer at the corner of the room, ushering me to follow. “So, says here that your power is…” he paused, squinting as if he was trying to read the paper correctly. “Bone Manipulation, but only on your own bones?” He said, typing into the computer before looking up at me. I nodded.
“Good.” He continued. There was a series of loud whirring from the computer before he pulled out a small flat box from under the desk. “As you don’t have a costume of your own, you’ll be given one of our standard assessment uniforms. It's encoded to the information on your powerset provided, so it should react to your powers. If you’re approved for the Young Defenders program, you’ll be allowed to keep it and use it as a basis for your own costume, otherwise you’ll be required to return it to us.”
I nodded, trying to show that I was paying attention. My mind thought to the makeshift costume I’d been working on, a mishmash of my mom’s old motorcycle gear as well as other bits I’d thrifted. If I was successful, this would be a new start, a chance to really solidify my “look”.
“So, get changed in the changing room over there,” he said, pointing to another door at the end of the room, “and return here to join the rest of the applicants.”
I nodded, turning to go towards the changing room.
“Wait, sorry.” I heard him say. “Before I forget, did you have a name or an alias you wanted to be known as?”
I stopped, thinking. Since my powers had first triggered, I’d been mulling over a bunch of different names.
Miss Bone, Calcia, White Death; not great names, and I’d immediately realised that that last one was taken.
As I turned, only one came to mind.
“S-Skullgirl.” I said.
“You sure?” Mr. House said, looking at me as if to test me.
Skullgirl. I let the name sit for a few seconds in my head. Something about it just clicked.
I looked at Mr. House again and nodded.
“Yep. Skullgirl.”
He nodded back.
I opened the changing room. It was empty - thank god.
I opened up the box Mr. House had given me, seeing the uniform neatly folded up.
This is it, I thought to myself, smiling. The first day of being a superhero.