The knock came at five in the evening. I had been pacing about all day, unable to focus for more than a few minutes on any one task.

Ardent was first to enter. His crisp black suit commanded attention, shoes catching reflections even in the setting sunlight. Bushy brows hung like blinders over his heavy-lidded eyes. Behind him, a woman followed briskly. She carried herself in a manner that suggested comfort with office tedium. Her skirt suit was prim and her hair shorn, but her hawkish eyes roved over me in a way that left me exposed.

“Remember everything we texted?” Ardent asked, striding down the yard.

“Yes,” I said.

“Good. Don't panic. Leave the talking to us.”

“Or do panic,” the woman said in a thick accent. “It will only mean a termination of our deal.”

I wasn't sure if she was joking.

Mom waited in the living room, dressed in clothes that bordered on formal. She had an arm around Nenye and perked up at the sight of the newcomers. “Chachi, who are these?”

“Staff from the NGO I told you about,” I said.

“Better Rights Humanitarian Organization,” Ardent interjected. “Or BRHO, for short. I am Peter. This is Catherine. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Onuoha.”

“Ms.,” mom said, waving towards the seats. “Make yourselves at home.”

The CAH people sat. There weren't enough chairs so I hovered near the dining table. Mom had been supportive when I'd first mentioned the job, but now her face was set like flint. This wasn't a discussion. It was an interrogation.

Thankfully, we'd anticipated this.

“Now, about your group,” mom began.

“Ah, straight to the point,” the woman—Catherine—replied. She crossed her legs, somehow looking both classy and easygoing. “As our name suggests, we are a humanitarian NGO based in the Netherlands. Our directive seeks to improve the livelihoods of citizens in regions plagued by persistent human rights issues.”

“And you are legal?” mom asked.

“Perfectly. We have branches in countries all over the world. You can visit our website or call our helpline to confirm.”

“If you have identification . . .” mom said.

Catherine and Ardent produced cards.

A frown snaked across mom's face as she inspected the cards. She must have been satisfied because she pocketed them and leaned into the couch. “So, what business do you have with my son?”

“What don't we have?” Ardent said. He cleared his throat. “He's a promising young man. We were at the station while he narrated his ordeal with the kidnappers. His thoughtfulness impressed our chief who offered him a job on the team.”

“We have been looking to involve the youth more actively in our aims,” Catherine added. “Chetachi is a step in that direction.”

“But why?” mom said, the gears turning in her head. “He's only seventeen. His highest qualification is a secondary school certificate. He even flunked his national exams—”

“Hey,” I said.

“Point is,” mom continued, “I know my son. He's strong-willed, dependable, and resourceful. But I can't see why you want him for your job. What exactly can he contribute?”

Ardent glanced at me, and I knew he'd redirected the question. What exactly could I contribute?

“You said it yourself,” Ardent said. “He's strong-willed, resourceful . . . he still needs to prove the dependable part . . . however, those qualities are the same we admire. We don't care much about academic qualifications. At least, not when hiring youth. Chetachi has some of what we want. And with our guidance, we hope to hone his dormant potential.”

I ducked my head, feeling a warmth flutter up my chest. Those words were meant for me as much as they’d been for mom. The CAH didn't think I was a perfect fit, but they were willing to give me a chance.

Mom busied herself with pacifying Nenye who fretted over a cloth doll. “What would he be doing?”

“He'd be a youth leader,” Catherine said. “Essentially an assistant and secretary to any of our Chiefs. We expect youth leaders to also be at the frontlines, reaching out to other youths in need.”

“So, he'd be visiting a lot of courts and police stations?”

Catherine smiled. “Those are the places with the largest ratios of human rights abuses, yes.”

“Chachi, what do you think about this?” mom said, turning to me.

“I wouldn't have asked them over if I wasn't already interested,” I said. I moved closer to the couch. “It sounds like a good job. Taxing but good. Much better than flipping pizzas.”

“But I want you to attend university.”

“And we won't stop him,” Catherine said. She pulled a folder from the inside of her jacket. “Apart from the salary, we have a trust and welfare set up for our staff. The welfare package covers tuition and healthcare. However, these are only valid at our partner institutions.”

Mom accepted the folder, perusing its contents. “Well, a tuition package is nice. But he can't use it if he is working round the clock.”

“I’m sure I'll have the time,” I said.

“You don't know that,” she fired.

“He will,” Catherine said. “And he won't be the only beneficiary of our packages either. They also cover immediate family.”

Mom went still.

“Your daughter is a disabled person, yes?” Catherine said, peering at Nenye. “She is eligible for our healthcare and tuition aid. I can't give concrete promises at the moment, but we can enroll her in a program that promises huge benefits for her.”

Mom blinked. “I didn't tell you—”

“It's okay, mom,” I said. “I told them. It's a really nice deal.”

Mom went quiet. We’d struck a decisive blow, using a subject that lurked close to both our hearts. “And the salary?” she said at last.

“A hundred and fifty thousand monthly,” Ardent replied. We'd agreed that the full figure might sound too suspicious.

“A hundred and fifty thousand?” Mom crowed. It was about same she got at the hospital. “That is . . . wow. It’s a little unbelievable.”

“I assure you, madam. It is all real.”

“When do you expect him to start?”

Ardent rested his massive hands on his knees. “Training camp resumes next week. Camp will last six months, during which he learns necessary skills. Of course, he will be paid throughout the duration.”

“Surely, by camp, you don't mean he will be spending six months away from home?” mom said.

“He will.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s a mandatory exercise for new hires,” Catherine said. “The camp is situated at our headquarters in Lagos. So, please be at ease. He is in good hands.”

“Mom,” I said, pressing the attack. “I can't stay here forever. We need this. Nenye does too.”

Mom fell silent again, fingering the area her necklace should have been. “Yeah, you are right.” She raised her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Peter, Ms. Catherine. You have my consent. I will go along with it so long as I am sure my son will be safe.”

Alright!

“If I have any reason to believe otherwise,” she added, “you will be seeing me in court.”

Ah.

Ardent rose to his feet. “It won't ever get to that, ma'am.” He turned to me. “We will be in touch then, Chetachi. Get your things ready. A vehicle will be by tomorrow morning to get you.”

“Tomorrow?” mom yelped.

“The sooner he gets settled in, the better. There will be a series of evaluations at camp.”

“Isn't that too sudden?” mom barked. She turned wild eyes on me. “Are you fine with this?”

“I am,” I replied. “I'm pretty anxious to start.”

“But tomorrow is too soon! You'll be away for six months!”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“This is to his advantage, Ms. Onuoha,” Catherine said, and her smile was so disarming, it could have melted lead. “He gets a free ride and a possible head-start over other trainees. Plus, there will be chances for him to visit.”

“I’m fine with it, mom,” I said. “Next week's just around the corner anyway.”

“B-but you need new clothes,” she stuttered. “Provisions, toiletries . . .”

“With the exception of clothes, everything else would be provided,” Catherine offered.

“I . . . oh, alright,” mom moaned. “You guys came ready to give me no quarter.”

If only she knew.

“We should get going then,” Ardent said. He gave a short bow. “It's been a pleasure, Chetachi, Ms. Onuoha. We'd talk more in the future.”

The CAH bid their farewells and exited the living room. I walked them to the gate.

“Were you serious about that?” I said, my voice small in my ears. “About helping my sister?”

“We will do what we can,” Ardent said. “You just focus on doing what you need to.”

Mom was in a muddle when I returned to the living room. She threw her head against the backrest, sprawling her arms. “This is too good to be true, Chachi,” she said.

It was.

“You won’t need to overwork yourself anymore,” I said. “Just focus on Nenye. I will handle the rest.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “Ooh. Big man earns some money and starts bossing his mother around.”

“Haha. Come on now.”

I sat on the armrest, draping an arm around her shoulders.

Mom pulled Nenye and me into a hug. “So, tomorrow, eh?” she said, looking dazed. “I have work so I can't come along with you.”

“That's fine. Just tell your boss the long shifts are off. I will pick up the slack.”

“Yeah,” mom said. “You've always grown so fast. I guess this day was bound to come.” She gazed out the window. A single tear made its way down her cheek.

That evening, I filled my travel bag. Clothes, shoes, and hygienic supplies went in, other items stayed out. Mom stepped out for a while and returned with an armful of groceries and new clothes. She stuffed them into my bag, dismissing my complaints.

One necktie from the bunch caught my eye. It was a huge, gaudy thing, splayed in a myriad of vomit-inducing colors. I held it up, struggling not to laugh. “This is so last century, mom.”

“Fashion is a cycle,” she replied. “New stuff gets dated. Old stuff becomes popular again.”

“Except, I'm not sure this will be popular till I am like a hundred and twenty.”

“Consider it a good investment then.”

“I won't be caught dead wearing this.”

“Then don't live to a hundred and twenty.”

We shared a laugh.

“Listen to your instructors, son,” she said.

“Is this about the tie?”

“No,” mom said. She folded a clean pillowcase into a neat square. “I am referring to the instructors at the camp. Listen to them. But only so long as they lead you down the right path. If you sense something wrong, don't linger. Just quit and come home.”

I shoved the pillowcase into my bag. “I thought you would be encouraging me to adapt and survive instead.”

“As long as it is for good,” Mom said, riffing through my pile of discarded clothes. “I don’t want you doing something bad just because you were thinking of your sister and me.”

“It's alright. I won't compromise my ideals.”

Mom smiled. “You've always been a good man. Better than . . .” she stopped herself.

“Better than dad?” I finished.

“Ugh. Don't make me say that.”

Ardent didn't show up with the van the next morning, but Catherine—if that was even her real name—did. She was decked in a fresh skirt suit, a lush silk scarf decorating her neck. Last night’s dew sparkled as my family and I made the short trek to the gate. However, Catherine wasn't the only one waiting. Mike was present, alongside Jimoh.

“You called them?” I asked mom, resisting the urge to face-palm.

“Of course,” mom said. “They are our friends.”

“Hey, big man,” Jimoh said, throwing a wave. “Heard you got a new job.”

“Heard right,” I said. “I'm going away for some time.”

“Nice one, boss,” he replied. “Up you! You gave us a real scare with the kidnap stuff. It’s a pity I was away at the time. I would have destroyed those animals otherwise.”

Yeah, right.

“Sad you couldn't follow through on the Gunner case, eh?” Jimoh continued. He leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard he got wounded in a gang fight. Seems other people had beef with him.”

“I don't care about Gunner anym—ack!”

Mike lifted me in a bear hug. “You should have told me,” he said. “Having to hear it from your mom was so not cool.”

“Sorry,” I said. “It's not like I’m leaving forever. I’ll be back in six months.” Assuming we hadn’t moved by then.

“Still kinda hurts, bro,” he said, and his eyes dimmed. “Be sure to keep in touch.”

“How could I possibly not?”

I gathered my mom and my sister in a hug. “Hold the fort while I am gone, okay?”

Mom laughed. “Which fort? Get out of here now. Fly!”

“Chachi,” Nenye said, the first word she'd spoken since the attack.

I knelt and kissed her on the forehead. “What's up?”

She looked elsewhere.

“I will take good care of him, Ms. Onuoha,” Catherine said, holding the sliding door open. I still couldn't place her accent, but it sounded exotic to me all the same. “You have my card in case you have any questions.”

“I will hold you to that promise,” mom replied.

“Take care, all of you,” I called, waving as I entered the van.

The van cruised off amidst their goodbyes and joined the Old Layout streets.

Catherine sat across from me, a smile playing on her lips. “You have a lot of people who love you, Chetachi.”

“A lot? They were just four.”

“Still more than most have.”

“Mm-hmm.” I leaned into my seat. Lush leather crumpled beneath me. The van was the same one that had ferried me the last time, but daylight meant I could appreciate its interior better. The CAH clearly wasn't lacking for funds.

“First of all,” Catherine said, retrieving a re-sealable bag from her jacket pocket. “Give me your phone. It needs to be destroyed.”

“What?”

“Take this instead,” she said, handing me a sleek but simple-looking device. “Council model. It’s hooked to a private VPN and comes equipped with our custom encryptions. It also includes a self-destruct function that triggers when tampered with. Considering the sheer variety of powers out there, however, we advise against bringing it along on missions.”

I accepted the phone. A prompt came on requesting a fingerprint and iris scan. Ooh. Classy.

My old phone went into her bag.

“You know we aren't heading to Lagos, yes?” Catherine said.

“We aren't?”

“You are going to be a Hero of this city. Why would we send you to another state for training?”

“I . . . I didn't think of that.”

“Well, now you do. Lagos might be the headquarters of our operations, but each branch of the CAH functions as its own entity. There is central oversight, and we strictly adhere to the stipulations of our charter. Everything else we do in-between is up to us. This brings us to the next matter.” She crossed her legs. “Ardent wants you brought up to speed before you arrive at base.”

“Right.”

“You will be part of a team of five. Four, if I’m allowed to be pedantic. The fifth isn't a field operative. We are always looking to expand, so expect a few more joiners down the line.”

“Got it.”

“Most of your teammates aren't from Newtown. Two members were poached from Lagos. Another is from a neighboring state.”

“Oh.” That explained one thing at least. I had never heard of any teen Heroes active in the city.

“You don't talk much, do you?” Catherine said, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Sorry,” I said. “This is new territory for me. I'm just taking it all in.”

“Well, as far as experience goes, you are the least experienced member of the team. The others have been Supers far longer and have been in some fights.”

That got me to sit up. “How come?”

“Vigilantism. Delinquency. Short spells as sidekicks. There is a fair amount of experience combined as a result.”

“Will that be a problem for me?”

Catherine smiled, setting sharp, filed nails against her seat. “Not really. None of them have experience working in large groups.”

“Okay.”

“There is also the matter of your Hero name. For legal reasons, you’ll need one to register with the SIRC.”

I’d played around with a few but a final name proved elusive. “I haven’t decided on one yet,” I said.

“Well, start working on it,” Catherine said. “Starting a career in the CAH is a big deal. You don’t want to stumble right from the onset.”

A vehicle honked behind ours in the traffic. Our driver responded. Both cars soon descended into a violent series of honking.

Catherine sighed. “You will also need a costume. The Council handles basic gear and costuming expenses. However, any additions, weapons or alterations must be authorized before field use.” She peered at me. “You have some costume ideas, right?”

“Sorry,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. It struck me that I was ill-prepared for this entire affair. I must have looked like an idiot.

“That’s okay,” Catherine said. “You can sketch a design and mail it to Ardent. Or to me. Keep in mind, we have guidelines in place regarding permissible names and apparel. Skimpy costumes are a no-no. As are invectives. We also prohibit the mockery or depiction of religious names and symbols. This is in line with our stance on religious tolerance.”

I wasn't aware the CAH had such a stance. For that matter, there were a lot of things I didn't know about them outside The Bastion's headlines.

Catherine continued speaking, “The country is still emerging from an era of crisis. And although we accept members from all belief systems, we’ve come to understand that upholding a secular image lessens avenues for discord.” She cocked her head. “Are you religious, Chetachi?”

“Yes.” I paused. “No.” We'd frequented church as kids but all that had stopped after the divorce.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“It's a no.”

“Alright,” Catherine said. She seemed to be taking mental notes. “A few of our members eschew having a secret identity. We recommend having one, to protect oneself from coercion from the authorities. For identity protection, we have observed that a broad-faced domino mask is effective enough. You can of course take this further with a full-face mask, a helmet, overhead gear or PsuDerm.”

“Sue them?”

“PsuDerm.” She spelled out the word. “It's a synthetic membrane that mimics skin texture and complexion. It can be used to distort one's facial features, making specific parts appear different than they are. It's a trademark of GAG U.S.”

“I see.”

There were many Hero organizations in the United States but the most prominent had been subsumed into the Global Alliance for Good, the superhero equivalent of the United Nations. Membership in GAG was by invitation only. However, government interference had stalled their growth around the globe. They were still prominent enough in Europe and the Americas. They’d also established footholds in India and Japan.

Back during the tumultuous beginnings of the Hero Council’s operations, the Federal Government had initiated public inquiries into the nature of the Council’s funding. The inquiries had turned up nothing conclusive, however, it hadn’t buried rumors that the CAH was secretly in bed with GAG. I had the chance at a definite answer.

“Are we a member of the Global Alliance?” I asked.

“No,” Catherine said without hesitation.

Well, that put an end to that.

The van rolled to a stop.

“Seems like we’ve arrived,” she said.

I peeked out the tinted window. We passed a pair of massive gates, heavily guarded by men in black tactical armor and helmet. Combat suits, as the CAH’s human enforcers were called.

A single-lane road led from the gates, flanked by flowers of vivid hues. The road terminated in a wide circle, ringed by dormant floodlights. Three days ago, a complex had lain in that circle, obscured by wooden barricades. Now, it stood tall. A two-story building with a slanted roof, upon which was crested in bold lettering: The Council of August Heroes.

There were no heavy-duty machines in sight, and workers streamed in and out of the complex. Drills and hammers echoed beyond the walls. We circled the building, coming to a stop in the parking lot behind it. A second pair of gates stood some distance away, signifying the exit. Fortified walls ran along the length of the entire perimeter, tipped by sensors of some kind.

“This will be your home for the next six months,” Catherine said. “I hope you find it to your liking.”

“Not sure I have a choice,” I said. “It’s mandatory camp, after all.”

“And it's a mandatory welcome. Ardent would kill me if I didn't properly usher you in.”

We alighted and crossed the lot, descending into a basement car park that had been cordoned off for special personnel. Catherine stopped in front of a thick expanse of wall. She tapped it thrice, once, twice. Multi-colored beams washed over us, accompanied by a dull thrum. The wall parted with a whir, leaving us at the entrance of a wide, well-lit hall.

“Welcome, Chetachi,” Catherine said, “to the base of The Pacesetters, the tentative name of the CAH's junior team.”

I looked around, noting the metal walkways above and the vehicles parked at the center of the room. Then a blur slammed into me with so much force I lost both breath and gas, and went sprawling across the floor.

In the spot I’d been in, a tall boy stood, all lean muscle and poise. His hair was a brilliant gold and a large grin covered his face.

“What's this?” he said, laughing. “Don't tell me we’ve added another weakling to the team. On your feet, soldier! Your hazing starts now.”