Being a transplant is rough. I wasn’t born in Graceland, and had only moved here a few months ago. Throw in a complete wipe and reestablishment of the concept of home, and the feeling of alienation was complete. Consequently I was still getting lost going to new places. That being said, there were a few landmarks I had figured out. The manmade lake beside the city was easiest one.

Lake Shane was an average lake, as far as lakes went. It was manmade, with the dam being originally being constructed in a particularly shallow valley. So when the lake grew to capacity there was still a fair amount of land leftover to build on around it. Hence, Graceland. Only a small portion of the shore remained unlit, and in that area of land a number of small collections of lights showing where the rich people’s mansions were.

Then there were the skyscrapers. There was one shaped like a hexagon a few blocks from my house that I used as a homing beacon. There was also a cluster of tall buildings downtown. One such high rise was the Sentinel Regulation Tower, called SRT for short by the locals. That was where I was heading now.

The SRT was easy to pick out because it was the only skyscraper built like a bunker. It wasn’t the tallest, but it was the only skyscraper in Graceland that had three of its four walls built out of solid concrete. The one remaining side being the reflective glass every other tall building seemed to have facing towards the centre of downtown.

Over the past four days I’d been discharged from hospital when the reason I was being kept in turned out to be a false positive on blood in my lungs, and I’d gotten in contact with the Regulation. The Regulation was the organisation the organised everything related to heroes and couldn’t have a name that was more on the nose. They weren’t a hero organisation per se, it was more accurate to call them a government programme that operated across national borders. The Regulation regulated which superheroes went where, as well as what rules those heroes needed to abide by on a global scale.

I’d made sure to do the research before reaching out. Making contact and declaring myself as someone that had powers was a point of no return for me. That’s why I did that yesterday after finally being discharged and before I could second guess myself. The man on the phone had told me that I needed to come in to the SRT for an interview to determine my aptitude, and to confirm that I did in fact have powers. They must get a lot of prank calls.

He also denied my request to meet somewhere that wasn’t in the SRT. I’d spitballed the idea of meeting in a cafe, which he shut down saying that I could be a villain’s underling setting up a trap for all he knew. I was insulted, but it was a fair point.

Instead of going in through the front door, I’d been given directions to go to an adjacent underground car park and enter that way. The call had ended with me being told that wearing a mask or costume was optional.

I stopped in front of the building and looked up at it for a few seconds. The SRT had a certain character to it. Public opinion on the tower was mixed, which I knew from the fluff pieces on the news that rolled in every few days. A recent one that stuck out was one with a man complaining about the price of the glass used on the one side of the building, saying the crisis proof material was an obvious weak point and a waste of taxpayer money.

Shaking the tangential thought from my head, I decided to go in with a mask on.

The thing was I didn’t actually have a mask. What I did have was my ability to change colour, which basically made me a chameleon. The moment I stepped into the carpark I ran my hands over my face and took all the colour away from it, making it black. Normally I was a typical pale white boy, but with this effect my skin looked like a featureless black void. Right now my face was so black there was simply nothing to be gained from looking at me. All the curves, the minor colour variations, and even the movements I made were lost to the void. I then mentally willed my eyes to a neutral grey colour.

The trick with the eyes was something I had spent hours practicing in front of the mirror to get right. Using my tagging power as a disguise hadn’t occurred to me right out of the gate, which was something I kicked myself for two weeks after manifesting. That all said and done, I liked the look. As I walked towards my destination I ran my hands over my remaining visible bruises and turned them into a neutral skin tone. That wasn’t something I wanted on display walking into an interview like this.

Shortly I arrived at the nondescript bague door I’d been told to enter through. The urge to hesitate welled inside, but I squashed it down and opened the door. I needed confidence, even if I was just faking it at this point.

The first thing I noticed was the air conditioning. It wasn’t blistering outside, but it was warm. The difference was enough for me to notice the cool air wash over me as the quiet hum of the air conditioning reached my ears. I had entered a waiting room straight out of a clinic. There was a decorative pot plant, a few chairs, and a desk with a secretary sitting behind it.

They had headphones in, which they took out as I walked in. Then they looked at me and waited.

“I’m here for an interview.” I said, feeling a pit of doubt open in my stomach. “I was told to come here around now.”

The secretary blinked, nodded, and started typing rapidly into the keyboard. There was a beat as they looked something up, then went back to typing.

They paused. “What should I call you?”

Uhh… “Shit.” I hadn’t thought about that.

“That’s fine.” They resumed typing then hit a final key with a small flourish. “Someone will be down shortly. Please take a seat.”

“Thanks.” I drifted over to a seat and sat down. The sound of the air conditioner was only interrupted by the intermittent typing of the secretary, who had put their headphones back in the moment they were done with me.

I was contemplating how I was sitting down in a waiting room, waiting for the beginning of my superhero career when the person I was waiting for walking in.

Lucidity had been wearing what looked like stylised combat gear. It set her apart from the crowd without being too intimidating. The guy that just walked in was wearing a full suit of armour.

He was tall, easily six foot. His armour was made of close fitting metal plates that made him look spindly, like his arms and legs were too long. There were small gaps at the joints where I could see a black material underneath. No allowances had been made for exposed skin, not even for his hair. Each piece of armour was a dull silver colour, and it didn’t reflect at all. When I looked at the costume I couldn’t help but feel that something was very off about it.

His helmet’s face had no mouth or nose, only two rectangular pieces of glass where his eyes were. The only other feature was the pair of horns that started at his forehead and curled down to where they ended just above his jaw. The horns were tight fitting, with no space to fit a finger around. It would be hard to get a grip on them in a fight. He had an insignia, which was an illustration of the helmet but with more horns and what looked like smoke drifting down from the piece, depicted on his breast and left shoulder.

There wasn’t a soul in Graceland that didn’t know who this man was. He was easily the most infamous Sentinel in the city. News shows frequently cherry picked him for pieces asking if heroes were too violent. The supervillains he apprehended often showed up to court in multiple casts. To top it all off, the name he picked for himself was Orcus, as in the demon lord.

Orcus was the guy that was picking me up for an interview. A pit that was growing in my stomach suddenly dropped to depths previously unknown.

He looked at me. “You are the one interested in joining the Sentry?”

Orcus’ voice had an unnerving effect. There was no meaningful variation in pace or pitch, save for a rise at the end indicating a question. His words were measured, specifically chosen, and unsettling.

“Yes.” It felt like I succeeded in keeping the waver out of my voice.

Orcus spent a few moments sizing me up, though his head didn’t move. “Follow me.” Then turned and left the way he came.

I glanced at the secretary who was immersed in ignoring me before following. We went into an elevator where I spent an uncomfortable minute not talking to Orcus. He then lead me around a few corners and I found myself in a hallway that must have spanned the width of the building. There were portraits on both walls for most of the length of the hall. Each depicted a different hero in costume and most were clearly taken in a photoshoot. Others were lower quality pictures of heroes in action.

“This is something I think should be shown to every transhuman.” Orcus said. “This hall has the history of all the heroes that have achieved international renown.” He gestured to the wall on the right. There were three portraits in each column, and the pictures went all the way down to the end of the hall and around the corner.

“And those that have served here in Graceland.” He gestured to the wall on the left. There were three portraits to a column like the other wall, but they only went halfway down the hall. I recognised a few of the masks.

“Where we are standing is where the portraits for the earliest heroes are. The timeline begins in 1998 when the Regulation was established. When a hero dies their portrait is replaced with one that is black and white. If a hall like this was made for villains with the same proportions, it could be ten times longer and still not contain the space required to properly document them.”

All but two of the portraits I could see at the moment were black and white. Orcus then kept walking like he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. I stood there, stunned. When Orcus started talking again I had to shake myself and catch up. As I walked down the corridor the number of coloured portraits started to increase, but that did little to shift my current state of shock.

“Were someone else performing this interview you would not be given these details. I have given them to you because the perspective this information gives is invaluable.” He opened a door and stepped through. I hurried to follow through before the door closed.

Now we were in a typical meeting room. There was a large screen on one wall and a long table taking up the vast majority of the room. On the wall opposite there were four portraits. Orcus seated himself.

“Get settled opposite me. Feel free to take your time. I have a few things I need to check and sign before I can conduct the interview.” Orcus had pressed a button on the table, which had produced a holographic display and a keyboard had shown up on the surface in front of him. The Sentinel had some impressive tech.

I paused with one hand on a chair, then glanced at the portraits. Special significance had been given to them by putting them in here. Though, I was interested in what Orcus was doing as well as the pictures. The deciding factor was that I didn’t want to ruin a first impression by staring over Orcus’ shoulder unbidden, so I went to check out the portraits.

“Sure.” I muttered as I walked away.

I understood the purpose of the portraits the moment I got close enough to recognize the hero in the first one. The woman shown was wearing a helmet that covered her eyes while leaving her mouth exposed, showing a neutral expression. The helmet itself was avian like in design, coming forward from her face and ending in an angled point. There were no holes for the eyes, similar to Lucidity’s helmet, but lacked the motes embedded where the eyes would be.

The full costume was cut off by the borders of the portrait, but I could see the white chest piece and shoulder pauldrons of her armour, as well as the long and overdesigned spear she used with her power. This portrait stood out because it seemed to shine while the rest was simply there. The colours of the costume stood out in comparison to the background, like the world was shining a spotlight on the woman. There was a plaque underneath that read “Archangel. Founding member of Aegis.”.

Aegis. Otherwise known as the big leagues. They were the first responders for the bad stuff. “Bad Stuff” with two capitals between them. My understanding was they were a part of the Sentinel that was a step in power above the strongest of heroes claiming the name. Orcus’ wiki page had described super strength and durability, as well as a degree of enhanced agility. And that was the easy to observe stuff. There were definitely things at play beyond what the wiki claimed. The way he carried himself, and specifically the way he spoke was telling of that. Still, Orcus was no match for Aegis.

Archangel herself was a big deal. She was one of the first heroes to come out of the Vatican, and not by the Vatican’s choice, which had lead to global headlines. Her power had earned her the title “Harbinger of Light”, and her actions had the media calling her “Saviour”. It was like something out of a bible. I moved on.

The next portrait showed a man that might have been mistaken for a well off salaryman if it wasn’t for the mask. It was a simple brown coloured face mask with a hood covering his hair with a slanted calligraphed golden “K” worked into the design, which extended to the borders of the face. The mask had the expression of a permanent and confident smirk, and had a goatee that extended just below the chin and ended in a point. He wore an expensive brown suit with a golden vest over the top, staying true to his colour scheme.

I was familiar with this hero. His name was Kinetic, and he had a plaque crediting him as a founding member of Aegis as well. He was also credited with being the first public hero and one of the first to receive powers. Given that I had telekinetic powers like he did, I’d looked up interviews where he described his powers. All I had gleaned from that was while our powers were somewhat similar, they were very different. I lingered for a few moments on Kinetic before moving on to the third portrait.

The third one was in black and white. While the other two portraits had been taken in studios, this picture was taken outside in a city. A city in ruins if the plumes of smoke in the background and the destroyed roof was any indication. The hero shown was a woman wearing a skin tight suit complete with a cape. Her’s was a simple eye mask that covered her eyebrows to her cheekbones. Her hair was left to fall freely.

The roof must have been destroyed from the heroine being thrown through it, as in the moment of the photo she was rising from within with rubble falling off of her. She wasn’t climbing, but literally rising, with one leg bent slightly more than the other as an unseen force suspended her. Her expression was one of determination, and showed through her mask. She was looking at something up high somewhere off of frame. There were two plaques underneath this portrait.

The first read “Hope. Founding member of Aegis.”.

The second read “1986-2013”.

It was a reminder that the best among us could die. I remembered the black and white portraits in the hallway outside. Then I shook myself and moved on to the final portrait. I was surprised when I found myself looking at someone whose face was a black void with two grey ovals for eyes staring back at me. Then I realised it was a mirror.

Underneath it was a plaque. It read “A Hero”.

I took a moment to look at myself. It felt weird to be looking at myself like this in a mirror outside of the bathroom. I realised that my hair wasn’t under the same effect as my face, and while it was black, it was obviously not altered. I noticed how skinny I was. I regretted the jacket I’d chosen to wear today, it was blue and white. It didn’t really go with the plain green shirt and brown chinos.

“I’m ready for you.” Orcus told me, shaking me from judging my own fashion. I sat, suddenly feeling underdressed wearing casual clothes while the man across from me was wearing a literal suit of armour.

Orcus pressed a button and a red dot appeared on the holographic display. I could see the screen from behind but couldn’t read anything on it because everything was backwards. “This is Orcus interviewing a potential candidate for a position with the Sentry in Graceland.”

He was giving me his full attention now. As Orcus spoke his mask barely shifted, his voice kept that same measured pace as before and I figured out why it was so unnerving. There was no distortion from him speaking through solid metal. Now that I thought about it, how did he even breath?

“Do you consent to being recorded for this interview to be reviewed during your application process and beyond?”

“I- sure.” I said.

“Please say ‘I consent.’ when approving your consent.” The volume was lower, like Orcus was trying to show that he was deviating from a script. This was the first time I noticed Orcus’ tone shift. Then it was right back to where it started. “Do you have a preferred name to use during this interview process?”

“Like a hero name?”

“That would be ideal.”

“I haven’t come up with one.”

“Understood. You will be exposed to certain classified information during your application process and will be expected to not to repeat such information to any inappropriate person. You will be required to expose personal information during your application process. Do you consent to this?”

“I-” It made sense. The Regulation and Sentinels protected themselves. Of course they knew each other’s identity. I was still figuring out exactly what it was I was about to do.

“I consent.” I said.

“Do you consent to releasing information regarding your power with the knowledge that it will stay within the Regulation and associated organisations?”

“I consent.”

“Hmm…” Orcus pondered. “We’ll start with your powers. Before that, can you please confirm your current age.”

“Sixteen.”

“Then you should be made aware that you will require a guardian to provide a signature before we can conclude the interviewing process and put you on a team.”

“Ah.” I’d have to get my foster mom for that. Complications. “I see.”

“Then, your powers. You have the ability to change your appearance.” He was referring to the changes I made to my face.

“Yeah.” I wasn’t entirely sure how to act. Orcus was had only changed his way of speaking the once so far. It was off putting. “I can change the colour of things I touch. Like this.” I dragged a finger across the table and changed the colour to green where I touched.

“Is this the extent of your power?”

“This one? Yeah.”

“You have more than one power?” Orcus checked.

“I have Telekinesis as well.”

I was about to continue but Orcus paused and operated the holographic display. I felt the need to wait for him.

“Interesting.” Orcus said. “Are you aware of the parameters of your telekinesis?”

“Parameters?”

“How far away can you affect things?” Orcus supplied. “How much weight can you lift? What physical toll does your power exert on you?”

“Well, I have to touch things to affect them.” I said. Orcus didn’t nod, but I felt he understood. “I haven’t tried and failed to move anything yet, and I haven’t noticed a physical toll yet. But I haven’t gone out of my way to test either of those things.”

“What is the heaviest thing you have lifted?”

I blinked, remembering. “Piece of rubble.”

Orcus pondered. Then. “Would you be willing to perform a test?”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” He stood and lifted a chair between us. “Take this chair and try to keep it in place.”

“Uh… Sure.” I stood and reach over the table to touch the chair.

“Are you prepared?”

I noticed all the forces on the chair. Gravity, the small force I put on it by grabbing it, the much smaller force of wind blowing from the AC, and Orcus holding it up. All the different information was constantly changing. Orcus wasn’t really holding the chair completely steady, it was drifting in a loose figure eight pattern. I took the sum of the forces as a whole and flicked a mental switch, locking it all down.

Orcus noticed the change as I locked the chair in place.

“I’m ready.” I told him.

“I will attempt to remove this chair from your grip on three.”

“One.” Orcus counted.

“Two.” I felt my palm get a little sweaty.

“Three.”

The force Orcus exerted pulling on the chair was explosive, and much greater than any of the forces already acting on the chair. It was easily ten times stronger than the punches I’d taken a week before. I could feel it competing to move the chair out of my grasp. However, whatever faucet of my power that was locking the forces on the chair was also preventing this new force from being applied. The chair stayed where it was.

Orcus’ pull lessened after it failed to do anything and paused. Orcus adjusted his footing, made sure he was braced and tried again. I wasn’t familiar with Orcus’ power, but this time when he pulled, he did something that changed the atmosphere of the room and made me flinch. In the moment before the chair left my grip I could feel Orcus’ strength multiply again, then without my power anchoring it, the chair flew backwards and hit the opposite wall.

“Shit!” It had happened in a split second and the verbage came unbidden.

Orcus stood opposite me with a single desk chair leg in his grasp, the wheel still spinning from the sudden movement. Another two legs of the chair were embedded in the wall. The rest of the thing was in pieces that had scattered around the room and were still coming to rest. Orcus brushed the shoulder the chair had flown past, and glanced between me and the debris. My nose wrinkled as a whiff of something foul smelling invaded my nostrils. It smelled kind of sweet, but it was just an iota of good mixed in with a whole lot of bad eggs. When Orcus spoke his voice almost sounded normal.

He said. “That, I think, was very promising.”