Williams Residence, Meritas City. September 20th, 2014, 15:00 PM

  Two days.

  Two days since the tryout.

  Two days of me trying not to collapse from nervousness.

  And now, it was time.

  I held the envelope in my hand. It had my name, my address, and the logo for the Young Defenders: a Y and a D inside a golden shield.

  I’d been holding it for the last five minutes, not saying or doing anything.

  Just staring.

  A small thing, but I felt like I was holding the key to the rest of my life in my hands.

  “We gonna open it or are you just gonna treasure the feeling of the envelope?” I heard my dad say, smirking. I turned my head to look at him, trying - and likely failing - to hide my nerves with a smile. He was looking at me from the kitchen.

  I took a lot of things from my mom, my dark curly hair being one of them. But I got my height from my dad. He was a beanpole of a man, almost six feet tall with a long face and thinning brown hair.

  He was the first one to make a joke, to try and make me feel better when I felt down. And today he’d been in an especially jokey mood.

  “Not helping…” I muttered, shakily, still trying to keep the smile up.

  I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, unfolding it.

  Dear Skye,

  Thank you for your recent application to join the Young Defenders. We greatly appreciate your interest in our organization and your desire to contribute to our mission of protecting and supporting our community.

  After careful consideration and evaluation of your physical assessment and verbal assessment, we regret to inform you that we are unable to continue with your application at this time. This decision was not made lightly, and we encourage you to continue honing your skills and abilities for when the next openings become available next year.

  Please understand that the selection process for the Young Defenders is highly competitive, and many strong candidates apply each year. We believe that with dedication and further development, you have the potential to achieve great things.

  Thank you again for your interest in the Young Defenders.

  Sincerely,

  Alexandra Cruz

  Young Defenders Human Resources Manager, Hampton Bay, Meritas City

  Young Defenders Organization

  I felt my heart drop like a stone in my chest. I kept reading the words, over and over again. Maybe I’d misread it, maybe there was an error.

  But no, it was there, crystal-clear in black and white: “we regret to inform you that we are unable to continue with your application at this time”.

  I didn’t move. I wasn’t even sure that I breathed.

  “So?” Dad said, his voice almost sounding muffled from the other room. “What’d they say?”

  I didn’t react, not for a few seconds. I just sat staring at the letter, not even at the words. I heard dad walk towards me.

  “Skye?” He asked, the joking tone in his voice gone, sounding worried.

  “They didn’t- t-they rejected me.” I said, sounding tiny.

  “You’re kidding?” My dad said, taking the letter as I passed it to him. I could hear him mumbling as he read the letter. He ran a hand through his hair as he put the letter down. I must have looked awful, because he quickly stood up and came to my side, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to pull me into a hug.

  “I’m sorry, kiddo. I know it sucks to get rejected like that. But I guess there’s next year?” He said, clearly trying to soften the blow. It didn;t help, as much as I wanted it to; I just felt empty, like someone had just snuffed out my dream with a wet towel.

  It took me a while to respond. “I…I guess so, yeah.”

  “Plus,” He says, “You said you made a friend there. That girl, ‘Spitter’, you said she was great. Maybe she’d put in a good word if she got in.”

  My mind went back to Spitter, how she’d done in the simulation.

  I remembered the confidence she had, how she seemed to approach the simulation like it was no big deal. How effortlessly she seemed to take down the combat drones they’d sent against us, how she’d been able to make ropes and bridges to help people. I’d been…less than graceful at points, even before my near-death dive.

  “I- I think she gave me her number?” I realised. In the stress of waiting, I’d forgotten about it completely. I fished out from my pocket and grabbed my phone.

  “S-should I call her or just t-text her?” I asked, turning my head to look at dad, who was in the middle of making us a coffee each.

  He paused for a second, thinking. “If it were me, I’d say call. Might have a lot to say, maybe you can make plans with her too?”

  I nodded, slowly. “Dad, y-you don’t mind if I…?”

  He smiled, handing me a mug of coffee. “Go for it, kiddo, give her a call.”

  I took the mug in one hand, phone in the other, and tapped on Spitter’s number. I headed up to my room as it rang.

  My room had become a bit of a mess in the last few weeks, different pieces of fabric strewn over the place, printouts of articles and pictures scattered on my bed. I shot a glance at my floor, which was currently covered in different bits of paper filled with notes on different costume ideas, and ways to use my power.

  As I sat down on my bed, the phone picked up.

  Fuck.

  What did I say?

  Apparently my best answer was nothing. I sat there, almost too scared to speak.

  Then, I heard Spitter’s voice. “Hello?”

  I panicked a bit.

  “Sp-Spitter? I don’t know if you remember me, but it’s Sku-”

  “Skullgirl?” She interjected. “From the tryouts? Hey, good to hear from you! How’ve you been?” She sounded as upbeat and high-energy as ever.

  “I’ve been…good, I guess. Just got my letter.”

  There was a pause. A long pause.

  “And?” Spitter asked.

  “I- I didn’t…I didn’t get in. T-they rejected me.” Saying it out loud hurt, and I could feel tears stinging my eyes.

  There’s a long pause, before Spitter responded. “Oh, shit. You too, huh?”

  I straightened up, not believing what I was hearing. “Wait. What do you mean ‘you too’?”

  “Yeah I didn’t get in either. Letter came through earlier. Didn’t say why, just the standard shit.”

  “But you were amazing! How could they not accept you?!” I shouted, almost angry.

  There’s a pause again. “Dunno. I’m surprised they didn’t accept you, you seemed like you had your shit together.”

  I laughed. “Me? N-no I didn’t, I was a mess the entire time!”

  “You’re kidding, you aced the climbing stuff. And you’re a killer in an up-close fight! And your little death dive at the end. Please don’t ever do that again though, freaked me out!”

  I feel my cheeks burn red. It feels odd to have someone actually compliment me like that; so many people I’d shown my powers to had been weirded out; I remembered back to Skate, and Leeroy. This felt different, nice.

  “S-say, uh.” I stammer, eyes closed. “Just had a thought, did you want to meet up soon, get a coffee, t-talk a bit more about, f-face-to-face? I think I could use someone to talk to.”

  Spitter replied immediately, catching me off guard. “Hell yeah, name a time and place?”

  I paused. I didn’t think I’d get that far. “Do you know uh…Common Ground?”

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  “Yeah, of course I do, been there before. Just in the centre of the Zero Block, right?”

  The Zero Block. Meritas’s resident “neutral zone”, where heroes and villains - at least the ones who weren’t complete psychopaths - had to play nice. Had a lot of shopping centres and cafes too, Common Ground being one of many.

  “Y-yeah. Sometime tomorrow, maybe midday?”

  “Hell yeah. Sounds good.”

  “G-good. And uh, since we’re not in the program I guess secret identities are out of the window.” I laughed and paused, taking a breath. “My n-name’s S-…Skye.”

  “Elena.” Spitter - or rather, Elena - responded. “Nice name, Skye. See you tomorrow.”

  “Y-yeah. See you tomorrow, Elena.”

  I put the phone down, staring out into the city streets. It was a lot to process: on the one hand, I’d failed. Rejected from being an officially licensed superhero, and locked out of a chance to try again until next year.

  But on the other hand, it seemed like I’d made a friend. A friend with powers of her own. A fellow reject.

  Common Ground, Meritas. September 21st, 2014, 12:00 PM

  The Zero Block was busy, as always. The very centre of the city, with its clean marble plazas, pristine high-rise buildings, and the massive LED screens beaming adverts and promotions at all times.

  I hated it. It always felt too busy, too overwhelming, like it was just a constant barrage of noise and lights. The crowds here were dense, too, people bustling about and soaking in how clean everything it looked. Eventually, I broke off and made my way towards Common Ground.

  Common Ground was familiar, homely even. I’d been to this cafe countless times since I was a kid, though coming here after my tryouts felt immensely different.

  Like all Common Grounds across the American Federation, it was plastered with all kinds of superhero and supervillain art, but the Zero Block’s one had something unique; the mural on the right-side wall depicted a beautiful, almost psychedelic scene showing a coiling jet-black serpentine dragon fighting what looked to be a man made of living lightning.

  Anyone alive knew what it was depicting: the New Delhi Disaster, where Long and Indra - two S-Class superhumans, the strongest kind of supers around - got into a massive brawl.

  They ended up wiping the city off of the map. I remembered a lot of protests about the mural when it was first unveiled here given it had only been six months since it had happened, a lot of people saying it was in poor taste.

  Aside from that, there were newspaper clippings dating as far back as the One-Day War in the 60s, each one showing some kind of local superhero or supervillain; everyone knew the story of a fresh-faced Lady Liberty lifting half a building over her head to save a group of people trapped in its rubble, and the clipping showed just that, her dressed in what looked like an old-fashioned American flag turned into a dress.

  But history wasn’t the only thing that Common Ground was known for; it was one of the only places where you could see other supers - heroes and villains - casually drinking, even talking and laughing with each other.

  That was the rule of Common Ground: it was, well, “common ground”, neutral ground for superheroes and supervillains.

  No fights allowed under its roof, or else.

  Sure enough, as I looked around I could see several heroes and self-proclaimed “villains” - really closer to gangsters with superpowers - sitting around drinking and eating casually, some even in recognisable costumes of all different colours and styles.

  Local heroes like Thrash and Backfire, as well as more seedy villains; the infamous Mr. Big - an absolutely gigantic man dressed in purple and gold - sat across three separate chairs, chatting to some cronies.

  As I looked around, my eyes scanning the cafe to look for Elena, I quickly found her. Pretty much exactly as she found me.

  “Skye!” I heard Elena yell from across the cafe, visibly making other people jump from how loud she was. I could feel myself shrink slightly as she waved me over, before I quickly scurried over.

  Seeing Elena out of costume was strange. Where the uniforms we’d worn at the tryouts were fairly similar to each other and pretty plain, Elena was wearing a lot of bright colours: a bright jacket split horizontally into three colours - cyan, orange, and magenta - over a bright red shirt and torn blue jeans. It was almost like she was actively trying to be seen, whereas I was very much trying not to be, dressed in a grey hoodie and black leggings.

  She was sitting on her own at a small booth to the side, the table covered in both food that had been eaten with the wrappers discarded, and food that was still ready to be eaten, as well as two cups of coffee.

  “Don’t mind me, just had to get my fill of the day.” Elena said casually, brushing the discarded wrappers to a corner of the table.

  “N-no, it’s cool.” I said, sitting opposite her. Almost as soon as I sat down, she slid a coffee cup to me.

  “Wasn’t sure what your pick was so I guessed at a latte. Hope it's ok.”

  I nodded. “T-thanks.” I took a sip, taking in the atmosphere of the place. Until I realised that Elena was looking right at me.

  “So,” she said, looking at me with a slight smirk, “how’s it feel?”

  I could feel myself tense up slightly. “How does what feel?”

  “The morning after, getting rejected.” She said, looking directly at me and smirking slightly. I could feel myself redden slightly.

  “I, uh…I don’t think its really-”

  Before I could finish the sentence, Elena cut in. “Not set in yet? Nah, I feel you. Honestly I felt like that last time too.”

  I looked at her sharply. “Wait, what do you mean last time’?”

  “Oh I thought I’d said.” She said with a mouthful of a donut, before swallowing. “The other day was my second time. Did it last year, got rejected then too.”

  A brief silence passed by as I just stared blankly at her.

  “Wait so you got-”

  “Rejected twice, yeah.” She said, holding up two fingers. “I was thinking ‘third time’s the charm, maybe next year!’ but at this point? Nah.”

  “B-but you were amazing! Your power’s so versatile! The way you were able to spit those wads of d-dough at the combat drones, or spit that glue out to make a bridge, you’re incredible! They’d be insane to not take you!”

  I could feel myself getting heated, but I didn’t care. I realised I’d been louder than I meant to be though, drawing a few stares. I quickly shrank back down into my seat.

  I noticed Elena was looking at me with a genuine smile.

  “Thanks, Skye. Means a lot. But,” she leaned back in her chair, “Don’t matter what you or I think. I think its ‘cause they have an image to keep up.”

  “An image?” I asked, tilting my head quizzically.

  Elena nodded. “They wanna keep the Young Defenders squeaky-clean. That’s why they passed that windy guy. He’s tall, he’s clean, and his power plays well for the camera. Problem is, you and me don’t fit that mold.”

  “Wait, Sweep passed?” I asked. As far as I remembered, he’d spent a lot of the simulation just ferrying people from the collapsing building.

  Elena just nodded. “Yep, saw him post about yesterday. I dunno about Leeroy though, he dipped after the simulation ended.”

  She leaned forward, whispering almost like she was trying to hide a secret. “See, what I can do? It's cool, it's useful, but it's also gross. You see a girl like me puffing up and puking out glue, or spitting a half-eaten donut like a baseball, and people don’t like it.”

  I could feel myself getting angry. “S-so you think they’d mark you down for that, even with how g-good you were?”

  Elena leaned back, nodding. “I do. Lemme ask you this, Skye. When you showed off your powers in that interview room, did they look grossed out?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but then I thought about it, casting my mind back to when I was first interviewed for the tryouts. I remembered when I showed off how manipulating my bones actually worked, how Skate had flinched and Dr. Reynolds looked like she was about to vomit.

  I remembered back in the simulation, how Leeroy had looked at me before he’d puked his guts up.

  I slumped back in my seat, tears welling in my eyes. “S-so what?” I could feel my voice quivering. “Because m-my powers are grisly and b-bloody I’m just…s-stuck?”

  Elena looked at me, genuinely sympathetic, before stretching across and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Officially, maybe? But unofficially?”

  I looked at her again, narrowing my eyes. “W-what are you thinking?”

  She leaned forward, keeping her voice down to a whisper. “What if we, y’know, struck out on our own? Took stuff into our own hands?”

  I paused, staring at her. “You mean like, vigilantes?”

  Elena loudly shushed me. “Don’t say it so loud! But yeah that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  A lot rolled through my head all at once. This girl - a girl I’d only met three days ago - was propositioning me to start up vigilantism out of nowhere?

  Vigilantism was dangerous; if you were a vigilante, you had whatever support network you had to help you, but that was it. Nothing official, and a lot of hospitals would report you if they realised you were acting as a vigilante.

  That, and a lot of vigilantes were treated in the same way as villains. I’d heard stories of young people killing their superhero careers in the cradle because they’d been too eager to start on their own.

  “Elena, I-” I paused, trying to make heads or tails of what she was saying. “If we did vigilante stuff and got caught, they’d lock us up! We wouldn’t even get the chance to be proper heroes!”

  Elena just stared at me, her face suddenly completely different. She looked much more stern, even cold. “Let me ask you this. Don’t you want to be a hero?”

  The question hit me like a gunshot.

  I hadn’t really wanted to confront it, but this rejection had gotten to me way more than I’d realised.

  Maybe I wasn’t good at everything a superhero was meant to be, maybe I didn’t have a perfect image, but the taste of it that I’d gotten at the tryouts was something I knew I’d always wanted.

  I wanted it more than anything.

  “I- I do…” I muttered. Then again, much firmer. “I do.”

  Elena nodded. “Fact is, Skye, we’ve got a gift. A gift we can’t use because some people in suits think we’re grisly and gross. So I say, we do our own thing. If they lock us up for it, fuck ‘em.”

  “I still need to…think about it.” I said, my voice low.

  I don’t know why I expected her to be angry, but she wasn’t. There was a slight smirk on her face, but I couldn’t tell why she was smiling?

  Did she think I’d do it? Was she convinced I wouldn’t? Did she think I’m too cowardly?

  “I get it.” She responded, simply and plainly. “If you change your mind, lemme know, ok?”

  I just nodded, before she almost immediately stood up.

  “Right, I need to go shopping, you wanna come with?”

  Right after she made her offer we’d spent some time walking and shopping, before she had to go.

  I say “we”, it was mostly her buying odds and ends.

  But tonight, I was at home. Dad was out of the house. Hanging out with a few old band mates, so I’d be on my own.

  Not that I had anything planned.

  In fact, I’d spent the last 2 hours in my room, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling, my mind racing.

  Much as I didn’t want to admit it, what Elena had said yesterday had struck me. Being a superhero was everything I’d ever wanted; when my power manifested and the reality of it had set in, it was the happiest I’d felt in a long time, even in spite of how it had manifested.

  I loved it. The thrill of actually getting stuck in and getting my hands dirty.

  The rush from saving people.

  The idea of being able to be seen as safe.

  I rolled off of my bed and opened my closet, pulling out something that had been hooked onto a large hanger.

  My costume. Or at least, the first draft of it.

  It was something me and dad had worked on in the weeks after my powers first manifested. Once we saw how my powers worked, I could see him brainstorming. Dad was always the guy with an idea in his head, and he’d set that into making a makeshift costume for me.

  It wasn’t anything hi-tech, God knows we could’ve never afforded that. If anything, it was a concept, mostly cobbled together from dad and mom’s old motorcycle gear. A black leather jacket, black leather bottoms, all studded with bits of metal that I’d painted and shaped to look like bone.

  Then there was the helmet. An old motorcycle helmet we’d painted white with black accents along the side, before dad had the bright idea to break off the visor and make his own. So he’d made one, painted it white and black like a skull, so it could flip down inside the helmet.

  Anyone could tell it was an amateur job, but dad and I didn’t care, it was something we’d loved making. It represented the start of what felt like my true calling.

  But staring at it now just made me feel…bad. I felt bad that I may never get to be a superhero, that dad would never get to see me make something of myself.

  But then, if I did go full vigilante, how could I stay out of trouble? Wasn’t like the police couldn’t deal with a C-Grade set of powers like mine, after all. I get caught being a vigilante and it goes on my record, I run the risk of getting barred from the Young Defenders for life.

  Never mind how my dad would feel, me getting arrested for doing something so stupid.

  But even as I thought about that, and maybe it was selfish of me, I knew what I wanted deep down. I wanted to be a hero, I wanted to help people, I wanted to keep people safe.

  Maybe it was worth a try?

  I looked at the costume that dad and I had made, and nodded to myself.

  One night. Give it one night, and see how it goes.

  What was the worst that could happen?