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“Good morning, LA! Looks like we’re in for another scorcher!” A radio host's distorted voice boomed through a lonely intercom speaker. Though loud and lively, it didn't attract any attention from the two occupants in the waiting room. The weather report crackled as the intercom's radio overlapped the frequency of another nearby station: "Reports of ---ilanous activity in--- rea. The G---." 

A woman dressed in punk attire was napping in a chair, arms folded tight. The cacophony wasn't enough to rouse her; her snoring, in fact, fought against the radio for dominance in the blandish square room. Next to her was a young well-dressed man. He also couldn't hear the radio due to the industrial rock music looping through his earphones, keeping him up and alert. A glass door led out to a blustery downtown LA sidewalk and a door next to the duo led to an office beyond. The letter "J" was displayed on the office door’s opaque glass panel. The rest of the mundane room had been thoroughly combed through: Every magazine had shown the duo everything they had to offer, the mid-century modern furniture had quickly lost its charm, and the checkered wallpaper failed to keep them distracted.

“I'm gonna run out of music to listen at this rate,” the man said under his breath. Whenever one of his songs finished, he would look at the wall clock above him. Nearly an hour had passed since they entered the office building.

A woman, with a clipboard in hand, slowly walked out of the door marked with the letter J. Her high heels clacked upon the tiled floor alerting the duo of a new presence. “Ah, you two must be next,” the office woman said in a calm and monotone voice. She wore a simple black office dress that clung tightly to her body. Her hair was contained in a well-groomed purple pompadour that framed her unemotional visage, which was itself overshadowed by a pair of cat-eye glasses. Her deep brown skin was complemented with immaculate makeup. She was clearly concerned with appearances but took strides to offer no further insight into her character.

“Well, it’s about time,” the punkish woman said as she quickly awoke. 

Even when seated, she loomed several inches over the man next to her. As she stood to her full height; her broad shoulders and built physique made the office women seem rather small in comparison. Her attire consisted of a torn-up cotton shirt, skinny jeans, worn-out Konverse branded knee highs, and a fur-lined jacket hoodie, all of which were either black or a darkly-toned red. Her dark brown hair was styled in a messy bob cut and her eyes and skin were amber toned.

“Apologies for the wait. Samantha Perez, correct?” the office woman said as she reached her arm out for a handshake. Sam obliged. “And you must be Maxwell Esperit,” the office woman said as she turned to shake his hand.

Maxwell rose from his seat without making a fuss, putting away his earbuds and MP3 player into his pockets. Unlike Sam, Maxwell’s attire suited the look of a proper yet casual business professional. His slender frame was outfitted with a blue dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up under a dark suit vest accompanied with fitted dark slacks. His skin was pale pink and he had what many would call a cliche emo hairstyle; his light brown hair had long bangs over one eye. A hint of eyeliner made his one visible ice-blue eye stand out.

“A pleasure to meet you, miss . . . ?” Maxwell asked as they shook hands.

“You may call me J, or Ms. J if you’re feeling respectful today. I’m the head secretary of human resources here,” J replied as she turned around to push her office door wide open.

“Alright Sam, you remember the plan?” Maxwell whispered out of J’s earshot.

“I got this man, stop worrying,” Sam said with a smile and thumbs up. 

“Now, before you two come in, I need both of you to hand me your cell phones for the duration of the interview.”

“Hold up, you serious?” Sam said with a slightly befuddled expression on her face.

“Come on Sam, don’t start something please?” Maxwell said lightly.

J stretched out her arm and beckoned for Sam’s phone. “It’s company policy, miss. We take our privacy and security quite seriously here,” said J. “And you also signed the waiver,” she added as she brought her clipboard closer to Sam’s face.

Sam glanced back and forth between Maxwell and J. Finally, she relinquished her cellphone. “Alright, but I don’t want you going through my pics or anything like that. I take my privacy quite seriously too,” Sam retorted.

“Oh don’t worry. I won’t.” J replied as she snatched the phone out of Sam’s hand.

Maxwell had already prepared his phone in one hand and his MP3 player and earbuds in the other. “Do you need these too?” he asked.

“All I needed were your phones. You can hold on to that,” J said. With both phones collected, J motioned both the pair of them into her office. As they complied, J moved over to the side and tossed the phones into what was blatantly a metal trash bin. The phones clanged and rattled towards the hollow bottom of the bin. Sam and Maxwell both noticed and made panicked gasps before being lightly nudged into the room by J. “Don’t worry, that’s a phone receptacle. Your phones are perfectly fine and you can pick them back up once we’re done.” J said quickly.

J closed the door behind her and motioned them to sit down again. There were two metal folding chairs positioned squarely in the middle of the room. Other than that, it looked and smelled like any other personal office. Sam and Maxwell were confused as to why this place was supposed to be so secretive. The room, even with all its organized supplies, dusty knick-knacks, and scattered decor, emanated no emotions; even less than the already pedestrian-themed waiting room. The grays, the whites, and a few faded colors of hope made for a sterile environment; an environment that not even the most offensively flamboyant or vibrant decorator in the world could ever hope to fix.

Maxwell sat with his legs straight and his hands grasping his kneecaps. His expression simply read as anxious to J. Sam sat with one leg over the other, an arm hanging from the back of her chair and a less than stellar glow of annoyance plastered on her face. 

J sat down at her desk and began to rifle through the various files, briskly flipping through folders to the pages she needed. With hesitation shaking his very core, Maxwell made an attempt to wave his hand and say something to regain the secretary’s attention. Before his agape mouth could even utter a sound, J instinctively raised her hand and wagged a finger to silence him. 

At last, she turned her attention towards the two young adults in front of her as she gave them proper eye contact. “Now, let’s get to it then,” J said. “I am here to conduct an interview. Specifically to see if you can meet our general expectations and to find out what positions you will specialize in.”

Maxwell’s second attempt to speak up was cut off as Sam began to speak in their stead. “Whatcha need to know, J? How many people I can take on in a fight? I can tell you how much I can bench press? How smart Maxwell is? He’s g-”

“This is not some sort of casual interview, Ms. Perez. Although, you do look the part,” J said as she pointed with her pen at Sam, motioning up and down to target specific parts of her outfit. “And your friend, Mr. Pretty Boy, didn’t think the same way either.”

“Okay, but check this out,” Sam said as she stood up to take off her hoodie. She walked up to J’s desk. As J adjusted her glasses, Sam pointed out the brand label inside of the hoodie. “See something familiar?” The label read, “Q-Nimbus,” with a logo of a storm cloud on it.

“Ah, one of ours,” J said unenthused. “While I appreciate your attempt, we still said you needed to dress appropriately for the job interview,”

“We get to wear some sick uniforms on the job though, right? I know that much for sure,”

"You’d start out with a basic uniform. The opportunity for self-expression comes at much higher positions," J responded in quick succession. “And that is if you even get the job, now please sit back down.”

“See? I told you back home that wouldn’t work,” Maxwell whispered as Sam moved back to her seat.

“He’s right, honey. If you wanted my first impression of you to be a mall rat, you did not disappoint,” said J. Sam’s eyes immediately locked on to J’s in an intense, albeit short-lived, stare down. “I can afford to give you at least one or two bonus points if that will make you feel better,” she said as her tone grew more sarcastic. It was the first time the duo had heard any change in emotion from her. 

In anticipation of another barrage of excuses and lip service from Sam, J eyed Maxwell and said, “Mr. Esprit, let’s begin with you actually.”

“Y-yes ma'am!” Maxwell gave J his undivided attention. J wasn’t sure if Maxwell was going to await her next order or start breaking out in a sweat, or both simultaneously. 

“It seems that all of your forms are in check; even hers," J said as she nodded her head towards Sam. “Tell me more about these jobs and positions I see listed here. You used to be a stagehand at some local theatres.”

Maxwell took a quick breath and began to speak. “Yes, while I haven’t had many jobs, I’ve worked a lot in theatre.” J’s eyes widened as her usual disinterested expression began to take a new form.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Can you go into more detail about that?” J asked.

“It’s mostly been academic, but I’ve also worked on a few professional plays and musicals. I started out as a stagehand working on sounds and lights. But many of my peers, including some of my professors, dumped other theatre work on my lap that I had to learn on the spot.”

“Such as?”

“Costumes and makeup. At first, I wasn’t really excited about having more responsibilities, but making costumes and putting on makeup for actors just clicked for me; you know?”

“Hmm, those skills could be beneficial.”

“Oh! I also did a bit of acting too, but I’m still a bit shaky.”

“That’s good to know still. So, why the career change? We’re not a theatre production and you don’t seem to be the type who’d want to work in this sort of place.”

“It’s the down season. None of the local productions are up to anything. At least, nothing that I’m personally interested in.”

“I understand, thank you,” J replied. Her face had softened up as she looked back at Maxwell, jotting down notes whenever he talked. The change in expression was short-lived, as J’s head turned to face Sam.

“Now it’s your turn, Ms. Perez,” J said as she flipped a few papers over to Sam’s forms. She looked through it briskly but was stopped near the bottom of the paper. She squinted to more closely see a jumbled mess of writing and ink splotches; list of jobs scattered all over in confusion. “So you’ve worked as a cashier, fry cook, shoe store sales associate, a dishwasher, a furniture mover, a barista, and a . . . costumed mascot?”

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“Yep! I’ve got experience with all sorts of jobs. You can say that I’m an all-rounder,” Sam said with a prideful grin. J continued to read through the list to herself. However, it became so hard to read Sam’s handwriting that she gave up on it and set the paper down. Sam continued, “Lots of other manual labor work too. That’s one of the reasons how I got these.” She proudly flexed an arm to show off her powerful looking biceps. J rolled her eyes and looked more unamused than previously.

Maxwell began to worry and nudged Sam. “Don’t forget to tell her about your last job,” he whispered.

“Oh and also, I was an assistant fitness instructor for my last job. Took a few courses in sports medicine and all that stuff back in college too,” said Sam who gave Maxwell a light jab to the arm as thanks.

“So how come you’re no longer employed there?” asked J.

“There were a few reasons,” Sam said. The awkward silence that came afterward troubled her a bit.

“Go on, I’m listening,”

“Well . . . the pay wasn’t that great, management wasn’t great either, and . . . cleaning equipment really sucked,”

“And you believe you won’t have any of those issues while employed here?”

“Considering what you guys do, probably not.”

J simply made an mmm sound with her mouth as she wrote more notes. She looked less annoyed, but still didn’t give Sam an inch, unlike Maxwell. “Next, do either of you have a criminal record or know of someone in your respective families who does?”

“I probably have someone, but I don’t know them all too well to confirm,” Sam explained.

“Nope,” said Maxwell right after.

J wrote down another quick note and said, “Well, that’s nice to hear from you two. Obviously, in this line of work, former convicts are no issue. Blank slates are still reliable to work with, however.” J flipped to another sheet of paper and continued. “Now I just have one final question.” She stopped writing and placed her pen on her desk. A look of seriousness was in her eyes as she spoke once more, “Do either of you have superpowers?”

Maxwell and Sam paused. They both turned to each other in search of an answer. Maxwell had a look of concern which Sam immediately noticed. She shifted her own look of concern to one of understanding, acknowledgment, and even confidence. They did consider the chances of this question coming up during the interview being slim, but once they were actually faced with it; they needed an answer. 

Turning back to face J, after what seemed like an eternity, Sam gave her answer. “I don’t have any superpowers.”

“Neither of us do,” added Maxwell.

The room fell quiet as the duo waited for J’s response. The faint hum of the ceiling lights was smothered out by air conditioning. The atmosphere became cooler as air continued to enter their surroundings as they sat still. J had stopped writing and was looking at the two of them dead on. Maxwell’s expression was blank, but he could feel sweat starting to accumulate on his palms. Sam had her arms crossed, continuing to look at J with mild disdain.

“Oh, well. It never hurts to ask these days,” said J as she broke eye contact with the duo. 

With what seemed to be the last question answered, the interviewees breathed sighs of relief. Sam smiled at Maxwell and he smiled back. The exchange was quick, as J snapped her fingers to regain the duo’s attention before they continued.

“I can safely say that with your set of skills, Mr. Esperit, you may be qualified for specialized positions here,” J affirmed. “But this next question is just between me and you two. Why exactly did you two want to join us in particular?”

"Well. We are broke postgrads living in the city. We kinda need the money, that's about it,” Maxwell said.

“Is that really it?” J asked.

“Uh . . . we like your fashion line, too?” Sam added.

J could plainly tell that the enthusiasm that was in their voices was now missing. “Well, if you haven’t realized it yet, this job is exceedingly dangerous. And I have a suspicion you don’t understand the gravity of all of this,” 

Sam scooted her chair closer to J’s desk. “We know what we’re getting into, ma’am.”

“Really now? I don’t believe either of you does.”

“Hey look, if it’s about the whole ‘not having powers thing’ the-”

“It’s not about that, Ms. Perez.” J took a heavy sigh as she looked at the papers on her desk again and then back to Sam and Maxwell. “Right now we’re looking for specialized positions, and I don’t think I can find you a place to fit in, Ms. Perez,”

Sam’s grin turned into a frown of confusion and then into grits of dismay. “Hold on, but what about just being a general h-,”

“I’m sorry. I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room while I finish with Mr. Esprit,” said J. “I can see you two are close friends, but for your sake, and for his, I suggest you leave immediately.”

“Please Sam, just do what she says,” Maxwell said as he put a hand on her shoulder.

“Dude, this is total bullshit though!” Sam yelled as she jolted out of her chair, knocking it over in the process. Her face showed clear rage.

“Ms. Perez, do I have to call security?” J said as she raised her voice for the first time. Her right hand reached under her desk and she began to tap on it, contemplating her options while anticipating Sam’s next move.

“Look, lady, we filled out everything you gave us. We waited patiently for your slow-ass to interview us too. The least you could do is quit being so vague!” Sam argued. 

J slammed her hands on her desk, disturbing some papers and a pen holder. “Fine, I’m trying to save your life here, you ungrateful little bitch. I’m so sorry I gave a damn.”

Maxwell pleaded to J: “Is there really nothing you can do?” However, she wasn’t paying attention to him anymore.

“Leave. Now,” J told Sam with an intense glare.

Sam scoffed at her and grabbed her jacket off the fallen chair. She looked at Maxwell one more time; his face had grown pale with fright. She could tell that he wanted to say something to either of them, but something in the back of his throat prevented any noise from coming out. Sam’s had the look of regret on her face as she turned to the exit door.

“Don’t forget your phone in the trash either,” J blurted out as Sam was almost out of the door portal.

“Oh eat a fucking dick!” Sam yelled back one last time.

"Enough!” Maxwell shouted. Sam and J turned their attention to him. As he had been helplessly watching for fear of interjecting, they had all but forgotten his presence. Maxwell panicked for a moment, flailing for some sort of epiphany. As his anxiety grew, he took out his MP3 player and put his earbuds to calm his anxiety with some music. Though Sam was familiar with his actions, the motions caught J off guard.

After only listening to one easy-listening song for a few seconds, Maxwell entered a state of concentration that felt like minutes to him. He could feel his heart slow down after taking one deep breath. He was calm once more and thought to himself. Then he thought about J. 

How can I convince her? How can I fix all of this? Maxwell sensed his thoughts flood throughout his body. Under his closed eyes, Maxwell envisioned waves of layered maroon and violet flowing through nothingness, until all those thoughts into a singular point in front of him. A solution emerged. He focused it all towards where he last saw J and opened his eyes. 

“Look, I know we’re not the best choices out there, but I know we can work up to your standards if you give us the chance.” Sam and J began to calm down and listen to Maxwell’s continuation. “I’ve been friends with Sam ever since we were little. She’s always been a stubborn jerk. I know that better than anyone else. But she’s tough and she’s passionate! She’s the one who suggested we come here in the first place. You know someone like her can stick through it until the very end. And if she can’t get a proper position here, then I don’t want it either,” Maxwell said firmly.

Sam turned all her attention back onto Maxwell. She choked up a little before speaking again. “Hey uh . . . you didn’t have to say that man,” Sam said as she walked back to Maxwell to give him a small hug. “Thanks though . . .” Her eyes glimmered with a slight teariness from the surprise and profound feelings of pride for her friend. In their shared moment, the tension in the room cooled over. Maxwell removed his earbuds and let out another deep breath.

“For fuck's sake, an ultimatum . . . really?” J slumped back down into her chair and smothered her face into her arms before letting out an audible moan. She peeked over her arms and saw the pair of young adults looking back at her, awaiting a response. J let out another moan before raising her head back up and rubbing the temples of her face. “You guys are giving me such a massive headache right now.” 

Sam’s surprised expression grew bigger after hearing the word ‘headache’. She looked over to Maxwell to see his reaction and was greeted with a quick smirk and a wink.

“I know I’m gonna regret this later, but screw it. There’s only, like, two months left before Halloween and we really need more people,” J said with a disgusted expression all over her face. She herself couldn’t tell whether the disgust was from the headache or the decision to bring them aboard. The duo, on the other hand, couldn’t have cared less. “You’re both hired.” 

“Hell yeah! I owe you a big one buddy” shouted Sam as she went to give Maxwell an even tighter hug. She got so close that her cheeks started to rub against his. 

“Hey knock it off. You would have done the same for me,” Maxwell replied as he attempted to break away from the hug. As Sam loosened up, the two of them did their signature secret handshake. They fist-bumped each other first and ended it with a chest bump that seemed to knock Maxwell off his footing a bit more than Sam. They’d done it so many times it had grown from a tradition into an instinct. The duo even giggled a bit after it was finished.

“Can you two be quiet for a second?!” groaned J who was continuing to massage her head with her left hand while her right hand continued writing. “And sit back down,” she added.

The duo went back to sit down. Sam had to go through the extra step of fixing her chair back up after kicking it into the door. It was apparent from their new postures that they were much more pleased with the new outcome. Both of them had their feet on the ground and were leaning attentively to see what was next.

“God, I gotta get some painkillers. So do you have any other questions before we move on?” J asked reluctantly.

Maxwell shrugged. He was quite tired from the whole ordeal. Sam thought for a moment and asked, “So, when do we start?” 

J got out of her chair and reached her right hand down to the underside of the desk again. “Right now.” As soon as J finished saying those two words, she immediately pressed a button from under her desk. 

Maxwell and Sam heard an audible click before the floor beneath them vanished. The two of them were sent spiraling down a trapdoor into a large metal tube way. It was almost like a water slide, if a water slide used frigid air to push through instead. They were sent deeper and deeper, their screams canceled out by the intense sounds of air vents pushing them farther inward. They were going so fast and the way was so dark that disorientation became inevitable for both of them. Distinguishing up from down or even what direction they were going in was simply impossible. All they could do was hold on to each other for dear life.

Several minutes of steep drops and sharp turns led the duo towards a light in front of them; a glimmer of freedom. They felt prepared for anything ahead, they just wanted to get out. The two of them shot out of a vertical tube in a subterranean ceiling, safely impacting into a landing pad of precision airbags. Neither of them could have pictured where they ended up. The vibrant chamber around them, tucked away beneath the earth, had an unmistakable aura of malice and evil. They had never been in such a place but they immediately recognized it for what it was. They had entered a supervillain lair.

Their new surroundings were colossal compared to the puny square office they were in just moments ago. Although it was much more spacious here, the duo felt an oppressive feeling to it all. What was once the smell of old carpet and sprayed air freshener was replaced by the smell of gasoline and heated metal. Maroon banners and insignia hung on the walls and rafters displaying the symbol of a menacing skull with lightning bolts on top of it. The acronym “RS” also appeared on nearly all of the banners. 

The deep earth and metal walls echoed all manner of motion and voice throughout its confines. Machinery moved in a rhythm of never-ending construction and maintenance. Masked henchmen in uniforms were scattered throughout it all, working their daily routine and unphased by their entrance. The lair itself felt like its own living entity.

As Sam and Maxwell began to climb off of the airbags and onto the metal floor below, a nearby elevator signaled its arrival with a loud bell and pulsating red alert light. J emerged from it with a glass of water in one hand and pills the other. She swallowed the pills wholeheartedly and took a drink of her water as she walked towards the duo. She relished in the bewildered and confused looks upon Sam and Maxwell’s faces as they became more clear as she approached.

They noticed that J looked almost completely different. What was once a simple dress was now replaced with a buttoned-down blazer and a formal high waist skirt held up by an ostentatious belt. The ensemble was mainly black or tones of dark magenta and violet, almost similar to the colors Sam wore. J wasn't afraid to show off a bit of skin with the blazer now either. To them, it suggested that J had an affinity for her real job, but a tendency to stretch the rules and display her own self-expression that she was explaining earlier.

Once she reached them, J took off her glasses and finally smiled at the duo. Sam even noticed that J's eye color was different as well. No longer amber like Sam’s, J's eyes were now a sea green color. But whether or not it was her natural eye color or just colored contacts, was yet to be determined.

"Welcome to the 'infamous' Reigning Storm!" J exclaimed. "Congratulations, you're now officially henchmen."