Afterward, she stepped into a round room with tiered seating, where the superhumans waited, that descended towards a podium. Already grouped into conversing cliques, the thirty-odd superhumans barely paid her any attention as she came in. She noted a few standout individuals because of their appearances. A thin, frail man, engrossed in his phone, sat by his lonesome at the back. His striking feature was the dark brown fur covering every part of his body, including his face, except for his palms and the bottom of his feet. A prehensile tail swayed absently beside him.
Further down, a woman with rust-colored skin and long antennae, resembling snail eye stalks, sprouting from her head, sat with the muscular man from earlier and two other superhumans. The woman spotted her and waved her over. Since the group stopped talking to regard her, she had no other option but to approach them.
“Hello, I’m Kylara,” the rust-skinned woman said, offering a handshake. “I’m from The Myrana Star System. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
She took the handshake, which was awkward on Kylara’s part, an eyebrow raised.
An alien?
Playing into Kylara’s stilted introduction, she replied. “I’m Ella, from the solar system. The pleasure is mine.”
The other three superhumans present gasped at her obvious mocking tone, but Kylara threw her head back and laughed.
“I love your hair,” Kylara said when her laugh died down. “It is so fluffy and rich.”
She thanked the alien woman for her compliment and sat down, joining the group.
“Sup, I’m Bohdan.” The muscular man reached out with a closed fist, eyeing her from head to toe. “You lift?”
Ugh! She was beginning to dread that question. Yesterday, she had inspected her body thoroughly, finding all signs of accumulated weight gained from lunch discounts working at the Sunrise Cafe for years replaced by a toned, athletic build with powerful, thick thighs and well-defined arms. Hell, she had grown a few inches and now stood six feet tall with a visible six-pack to boot. Presently, she resembled the Amazons of Greek mythology. So, in a way, Bohdan’s question was warranted. But what woman wanted to be asked if they lifted weights at every opportunity?
She bumped fists with him. “Not really, no.”
“Well, that is some genetic lottery you have there,” he remarked, raising his arm and flexing the biceps. “Lift some weights and you’ll look just like me.”
Her jaw dropped from shock. Why the fuck would she want to look like an Olympic bodybuilder?
The other woman amongst them burst into laughter. “I think she’ll pass on that Bohdan. I know I will.”
The woman introduced herself as Sasha. Her hair was dyed violet at the ends. With the piercings on her face and the colorful punk rock tattoos adorning her arm, Sasha exuded a hard-edged exterior.
“I’m sure Bohdan would fancy a woman with bigger muscles than him,” the last person spoke with a Southern accent. Jamal looked relatively tame next to Bohdan, save for the messy, faded tattoos on his left arm.
“Of course, I would,” Bohdan said. “Who wouldn’t want a strong, powerful woman that can bench press over a thousand pounds as a life partner?” Then he nodded at Ella. “I must say, you look impressive, lady.”
She blushed, thanking her skin tone for hiding her current state.
“So.” Kylara clasped her hands together, beaming with excitement. “What are your superhero names? I’ll start. Mine is Centauri.”
“Why?” Jamal asked. “What’s the reasoning behind the name?”
“It is derived from the name your people gave my home star.”
“Alpha Centauri A?” Ella inquired.
Kylara shook her head. “Alpha Centauri C, which is designated as Proxima Centauri. You are familiar with star systems?”
It was Ella’s turn to shake her head. “No, but my brother is. I just happened to soak in some knowledge in his presence.”
“Well then, I’d love to meet that brother of yours. Is he as beautiful as you are?”
She nearly choked from the comment, cut off guard by the opportunity to be her brother’s wingman. “Sure, he is. Keep in mind that he is always busy.”
“That is no problem. Time is one thing that Myrans possess in abundance.”
“Oh my gosh! Quit it with the audacious flirting, you all,” Sasha said.
They all chuckled.
“Centauri. That is a powerful name you picked there,” Bohdan said, shifting in his chair. To everyone present, it looked like he was constantly flexing. “I dig it. It exudes confidence. My name will be Powerlad because I’m the strongest there is, of course.”
“Nice.” Jamal reached his hand out and clasped Bohdan’s hand in a firm handshake. “Mine’s Gunz, with a Z. Short and simple.”
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“What is the reasoning?” Kylara asked.
To that, Jamal shrugged. “Like I said. It’s short, sweet, and it takes my power into consideration. I’m not too good with names either.”
After that, they all turned to Sasha, who acted as if she had lost interest in the conversation.
“Your superhero name, miss,” Bohdan stated with a smile. “Don’t keep us waiting.”
“If you find it unnecessary to share,” Kylara added. “Then there is no problem.”
Sasha sighed. “It’s fine. I just didn’t put much thought into it.”
Meanwhile, Ella’s head steamed from her brain overworking to come up with a name as she, too, never gave it much thought. Or any thought at all.
“It’s Whips,” Sasha mumbled.
“Come again?” Bohdan leaned in, a mocking grin on his face.
“She said her superhero name is Whips,” Kylara clarified. “I feel it is satisfactory. Good job, Sasha.”
“Satisfactory?” Bohdan stifled a laugh. “Sure thing.”
“You’ve got a problem?” Sasha glared at him.
Bohdan offered up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Nope. Just like the lady said, it’s satisfactory.” Then he added in almost a whisper. “I just need to know. Are you into BDSM by chance?”
That broke everyone, including Sasha, who tried her hardest to frown by scrunching her face, but ultimately gave into the laughing fest.
“Fuck you,” Sasha said.
Only Kylara seemed confused. “What is BDSM?”
Before someone had to enlighten her, a loud voice rang out.
“Quiet down everyone! This is not a social gathering.”
Ella turned and gazed ahead at the source of the authoritative yet familiar voice. Agent Ivarsson stood at the podium, clad in full combat gear composed of a navy blue tactical uniform with composite body armor add-ons. Holstered pistols were fastened to her legs, while a heavy metal utility belt gleamed from the light fixture she stood under. Perhaps the only things missing from Ivarsson’s outfit were a high-powered rifle and a helmet. However, Ella knew those items were close at hand should the need arise.
Several other agents stood at attention behind Ivarsson.
Soon the room fell quiet, prompting Ivarsson to commence. “Today you all are present to undergo the Superhero Assessment Test. Unlike the lax assessment you may have experienced during your superhuman registration, this is the real deal. We will hold you to the standards HAVEN sets for our superheroes. If you falter, we will fail you.”
Ella gulped, the gravity of the situation setting in.
“But if you succeed, you will have HAVEN’s full, unwavering support. I wish you all the best. A word from our coordinator for the duration of this assessment, please welcome the director of the Techno-Crisis Innovation Bureau, Synapse.”
Applause crackled in the room as a towering, white robot with a hunched back, arms resembling those of a gorilla, and a generally round stature entered the room and stopped beside Ivarsson. Many blue cylindrical protrusions dotted the robot’s back, its sole red eye scanning the crowd. As if satisfied with whatever it discerned, the robot dropped to all fours, opening its chest outward. And from that cavity, a woman emerged. Her features were distinctively far East Asian with jet-black hair cut off at her shoulders. Impressively, the sclera of her eyes spotted exposed circuitry while her pupils resembled camera lenses.
“I am not one for sentimental speeches,” Synapse said, her voice booming with an electronic edge. “So we will get right down to business. Your performance metrics will be calculated on a zero to one-hundred scale across five weighted parameters.” Her eyes lit up, projecting an augmented reality display that showcased the five sections of the Superhero Assessment Test. “The parameters are as follows; physical aptitude worth 25%, power mastery worth 25%, written assessment worth 10%, team dynamics worth 25%, and combat proficiency worth 15%.
“A minimum cumulative score of seventy is the threshold for successfully passing the Superhero Assessment Test. Failure to meet that standard will result in automatic disqualification. We will convene at 0800 hours daily in this room for the duration of the assessment. Tardiness will not be tolerated.” Synapse paused, accessing the quiet crowd, then she added. “Though luck is technically just probability distributions in action, I wish you the best of it in your endeavors.”
Synapse’s speech did little to fight her building anxiety. In fact, the comments had quite the opposite effect, speeding the beats of her pounding heart. She had to take deep breaths. Jalen made her a god, not a wuss. With her current self, nothing was impossible.
Glancing at her peers, she noticed the nervous looks on their faces. Only Kylara acted aloof in light of the coming trials, while confidence and nervousness waged battle on Bohdan’s face.
In a single file, they moved into the adjacent room designated as the prep room, which was a long narrow corridor flanked by stalls, similar to prison cells, furnished with a toilet and a cramped shower cubicle. There, they changed into their training suits, which still had some warmth and the crisp smell of new rubber.
After struggling to fit into her complicated training suit, she slid up the last zip and checked herself in the mirror. The gray and black full-body suit—perforated with countless tiny holes to facilitate the circulation of air—fit snuggly, accentuating her improved physic. Some areas spotted reinforced armor like her shins, knees, knuckles, and forearms. Her boots fit so well that they became extensions of her body. She couldn’t help but grin at how good she looked.
And her new colleagues agreed with her, particularly Bohdan, who gave her a thumbs up, an impressed smile on his face. He looked good to her as well, his slabs of muscle that looked hard as steel, displayed in full glory.
All thirty superhumans stood in a messy clump, their apt attention on Synapse who strode into the large empty room, her giant ape robot in tow. Ivarsson and the other agents stood at attention, not a muscle moving as Synapse assumed her place before everyone and laid down the plans for the day.
“For today and tomorrow, you will tackle physical aptitude which is further divided into four parameters; strength test worth 6%, speed test worth 6%, agility test worth 6%, and the obstacle race, a combination of all aforementioned parameters, worth 7%. More details will be revealed during the tests. And keep in mind, save for your physical abilities, you are not allowed to use any other powers.”
When they all realized that powers were forbidden for the physical test, a rumbling of collective groans sounded, causing Synapse to pause. For Ella, it didn’t matter because her physicality was one of her strong suits. Though, she could grasp how inconvenient it was to those not blessed with superhuman physicals. Case in point, Sasha, who silently cursed up a storm. Ella turned her attention to Synapse, who watched them complain with mechanical indifference.
“Quiet down!” Ivarsson commanded.
Once a semblance of silence returned, Synapse continued. “We will begin with the speed test, which consists of a 200m race to evaluate how fast you can push yourselves and a 1500m race as a test of endurance. You will have thirty minutes to warm up and an hour break between races. I will let my handlers take on the finer details.”
The ape robot placed its arm on the floor beside Synapse, allowing her to get on, then delicately placed her in its chest cavity, which closed with perfect precision. As the agents instructed them to get on the exercise mats and stretch, the robot spun around and sauntered out of the room.