2.3

“Class A-3,” Rook hums as I follow her through the USMC tower’s grand entrance. “Not outside of expectations.”

After the evaluation yesterday, Crane sent me home and told me he’d contact my parents the next day about the results.

They didn’t ask me what happened, didn’t really talk about it at all. I think they were trying to pretend nothing happened, but dad couldn’t seem to look at me, and I kept catching mom staring at me from the corner of my eye.

Anyway. This time, Rook came out to meet me at the transport, without her drone. She’s wearing professional-looking slacks combined with a stylish but more casual sweater.

Her glasses blink as she talks. “Nothing overtly oppressive, though. You’ll have to work harder to be effective.”

“Yeah,” I reply, absentmindedly. My head is on a swivel as we walk through the headquarters lobby, studying the sweeping architecture and glimpses of impossible tech through the cracks of the building. Structures of matte black and shining red lines glitter in between the walls, and even outside the building streams of red run throughout the metal surface like veins.

You see the results of superpowers all over the internet, from news stories or fan cams, but it’s nothing compared to what you get up close. This place, for all its intimidating futurism, oozes personality.

There’s only fifteen of Citadel’s towers scattered around the world, nine of which are in the United States, and being this close to one of them it’s obvious why.

“You’re not listening.”

“Mhm, sure.”

I hear Rook sigh. “Pick your battles,” she mutters.

Rook gets us through the lobby and deeper into the building, where a large elevator takes us higher up the tower. The ride takes a couple of minutes, even if it feels like we’re going twice as fast as elevators should be.

The elevator finally opens, and from inside of it I can see a small hallway leading into some kind of common room, filled with scattered trinkets and equipment, bordered by huge glass windows in place of the right wall.

“Red,” Rook says, before we walk out. “Have you decided on your preferred pronouns? I’d like to know how I should introduce you.”

Introduce me? I panic, a little. “Uh. Girl.”

She takes that in stride. “Then, in we go.”

The hallway opens up as we enter the common area, where a large table bordered by couches and chairs surrounds it. The windows let in a warm, golden glow from the afternoon sky from one end, the other looks artificially blacked out.

Two kids sit around talking, while a third messes with some electronics in the corner. They’re wearing casual outfits, but seeing them here, in this context, sparks recognition.

Of the two people talking, one is a shorter girl with close-cropped black hair, wearing ripped jeans and a tank-top. The other is a large boy with medium-length brown hair and a slight tan, wearing a t-shirt and slacks. He’s bent over a notebook and an assortment of worksheets, it looks like.

The last kid looks like he walked straight out of an old comic book. He’s wearing overalls and covered in so much soot that I can’t tell whether his hair is supposed to be black or not.

“There’s no way that’s right,” the tall boy states, confidently.

“It is! Check the notes!” The girl insists, just as confidently.

“Maybe I will!”

“You should! I’ve been saying this!”

Rook clears her throat, and both of their heads whip over to stare at us. The kid in the corner doesn’t react.

“Rook? Who the fuck is that?” The girl asks, looking at me. I reflexively grit my teeth.

“Woah, are those fangs?!” She yells, her eyes widening. She jumps up from the couch and runs over, reaching out like she wants to inspect me. I quickly lean away, and while she doesn’t pursue, she doesn’t cease her investigation either. “Are you gonna join the team?”

“She is,” Rook interrupts, taking the kid by her shoulders and moving her to the side, “and I’d like all of you to be respectful —”

“No one told me we’d be getting a new recruit,” the other boy protests.

“You’re not entitled to the inner workings of USMC management. Now —”

“What’s happening?” The kid in the corner finally stops tinkering with his gadget long enough to look up.

“A gross violation of workplace conduct.”

“We’re getting a new roommate!”

I watch Rook visibly deflate, and then rebuild herself and take a breath. “Attention!”

All three kids jump to attention, backs straight and hands behind their backs, seemingly out of habit. Gadget kid scrambles a bit before he gets it, but he does get it.

“Heroes, this is Red,” Rook addresses them. “Red, this is heroes. Cooper Dunn,” she starts, pointing at the soot-covered one, “Rory Kessler,” pointing at the taller boy, “and Eva Costa,” she finishes, pointing at the girl.

“You may also know them by their hero names. Boy Gadget, Shield Warrior, and Rebound.” Her face remains stoic when I glance over to her.

“Right,” I mutter. “Boy Gadget. Of course.”

The girl, Eva, twitches her lip.

“Jackie Jet seems to be… unavailable at the moment. Rory, when she returns, could you introduce Red?”

He nods. “Yessir.”

“In the meantime, get to know each other. Red will be observing during tonight’s session.”

Rory nods again. “Yessir.”

“Suck up,” Eva mutters.

Rory looks scandalized, and starts to open his mouth.

“I’ll be leaving you,” Rook interrupts. “Please behave.” Then she does just that, turning and walking into the elevator. The doors close with a ding, and I’m left alone in a room with three strangers.

“Sooo… what do you guys… do? Around here?”

I swear I’m trying.

The two boys break from attention. Rory sits back down in front of his worksheets, while Cooper trips over a gadget and scrambles to grab it off the floor.

Eva shrugs. “I dunno, I got a PS5 in my room, I guess.”

I blink. “Really? Do you get a salary or something?”

“Nah, you gotta apply for stuff. But if it gets approved, you get it for free, so.”

“Weird.”

She shrugs. “I guess. C’mon, I’ll show you around. It’ll be nice to have another girl besides Olivia.”

I twitch. Who?

She grabs my arm and drags me to a hallway deeper into the building before I can ask. I stumble, but follow obediently.

“The living room’s out there, obviously, and back here we have a kitchen,” she says, motioning as we pass a tiny kitchenette, littered with a couple different cookware and food items. “And then back here are the rooms. There’s a couple extra, Rory and Cooper use them if they want friends over or whatever sometimes. You’ll probably be taking one of them,” Eva narrates as we walk past the kitchenette and down a hallway bordered with seven doors, four on one side and three on the other. “That last one down there’s the bathroom,” she comments, opening the second door on the left and motioning for me to step inside.

“And this’s my room! There’s my desk, that’s the bed; got a lot of plushies, all on org payroll, obviously…” The room is only vaguely emo, littered with maligned gothic prints, dark blues and blacks, dark, practical clothes scattered around the gray carpet, bed unmade and sheets hanging off the mattress. Her desk is as practical as her style, desktop and PlayStation tucked underneath it. She has two monitors, and both of them are kind of huge.

Off to the side rests another desk covered in… synthesizers? Not scattered, either, she has an actual setup, as well as an electric guitar sitting on a stand next to it.

I think she sees me staring at it. “Oh, uh, do you play? I’ve been meaning to learn, but, uh.”

“Um, yeah, I play.”

Eva plops down on her bed and nods at the guitar. “Well? Play me a song?”

I shrug, and pick it up. It’s a deep, glossy blue with thick metal strings and a paddle. Two pickups, controlled via switch. I sit down at the chair by her desk and gingerly rest the instrument at my hip.

I clear my throat. “Got any requests?”

“Nah, just go for it.”

I take a breath, and start picking at the strings. It’s a little out of tune. Hasn’t been used in a while probably.

I take a second to tighten a couple of the strings, and then start again.

Slow, melodic, spacey. I play a song I like coming back to. The guitar’s unfamiliar, its weight is odd, and the strings are different from what I’m used to. But I start to slide into a rhythm.

The notes dance around the room, and they feel like home, and even if that isn’t really a good feeling, it’s familiar. I start to relax.

“Woah. You’re pretty good.”

“Mhm,” I reply, not really paying attention as I transition into the chorus. The song’s still slow, but I start gradually adding strings and using chords as I continue.

It’s nice. I haven’t had the time to play at home, so, any excuse I can get…

My finger slips, and I miss a note.

“Ah, uh,” I stutter, collecting myself. “Well, I’m not a professional, but I’ve been playing since I was little.” I set the guitar back on its stand.

“What got you into it?” Eva asks. “I’ve tried to pick it up, but it never seems to work out.”

“My dad,” I answer. “He used to play. Not so much anymore.”

“Ah. Wish I had musical parents,” she says, chuckling.

I shrug. They’re not really musical. Dad stopped playing a little after I was born, I think.

Eva opens her mouth again, but before anything can come out, I hear a harsh knocking on the door to her room. It’s open, so when I jump and whip around to see the source, I immediately see who it is.

Olivia Burns stands in the door frame of the USMC’s junior hero dorms.

Olivia Burns is Jackie Jet? That’s so fucking stupid. I have to clamp my mouth shut before I accidentally blurt out her name like an idiot.

“Olivia,” Eva spits, crossing her arms and standing from her bed.

“Evvy! Why so hostile? I just wanna see our new recruit!” Olivia croons. I have to resist the urge to call her something rude in response.

“Fuck off, get out of my room.” Woah, she really is hostile, though.

Olivia takes a step back outside the door frame and smirks, and it’s about here I decide I should intervene.

“Uh, hey,” I start. “I’m…” I make a face. Can’t tell her my real name, not in a million years. What did Rook call me?

“I’m Red,” I finish, shrugging.

“Yeah. Weird name,” she deadpans.

I shrug again for good measure.

“So your name isn’t actually Jackie?” I comment.

She rolls her eyes. “They said Jackie’s more marketable, and something about opsec? I dunno.”

“Okay, if you bitches are gonna be all buddy-buddy, you can both get the fuck out,” Eva sighs, waving her arm around. I blink, but when she starts shooing me, I move out into the hall with Olivia.

“Toodles, Evvy!” Olivia smiles, doing a little wave.

“Fuck you,” Eva spits, closing the door carefully.

I look at Olivia. “She really doesn’t like you.”

“I think she finds me annoying.”

“You think?”

Olivia laughs, and I can’t help but scowl.

Olivia follows me as I walk back into the common room. The taller boy, Rory, seems to have gone back to his room, but Cooper remains in the corner tinkering with something. Orange light filters in through the window as the sun sets, and I pick a couch to watch it on. Rook said I’ll be observing a team exercise, and then she’ll have someone take me home, so. I guess it’s time to wait.

I don’t think I mind, though. Ava was right. You need to be high up to see the sun set around here.

And then, turning back, I see Olivia watching me with an unreadable expression. I feel a tug on my gut.

“You’re pretty good.”

“Huh?”

 “I heard you playing,” she says, squinting. “You’re good.”

“Uh. I guess.”

She’s silent for a moment. Then…

“Jake?”

Shit.