"You ready?" asked Bjorn. "The suits are over there."

It looked like a locker room. There was nothing except some benches, lockers, and what seemed to be stalls. Bjorn was pointing at what looked like a closet with suits hanging in it.

"Those are the ones made for wings," said Bjorn. "They have no backs, see?"

He lightly stroked my wing and I jumped.

"Sorry," Bjorn said. "I was curious about how your wings felt. My wings are soft and feathery but yours are sort of leathery. There aren't a lot of people with wings around here."

"Curiosity need not infringe on personal space, you know," I said, even though I kind of liked his touch on my wing. I had thought my wings were annoyingly sensitive when I washed them and when they bumped into things but he was gentle and it felt kind of nice.

"Change into the suit," said Bjorn, "grab a gun, and then wait by this door. I'll be back in five minutes."

Bjorn tapped a door on the right side of the locker room and then opened it and went through, closing it behind him.

I grabbed a suit and went to a stall to change.

The suit was like the skintight one Bjorn had worn when I first saw him. Thankfully, it had a crotch guard. It was really easy to move around in, which I suspected would be useful for the test. I had no sorts of fighting moves whatsoever, though, which I suspected was problematic. My body had been somewhat muscular and definitely more agile when I used to play field hockey, but after Dad's death, malnutrition from my mother's oppressive house-rule degenerated the (admittedly unimpressive) muscles I once had.

No point in thinking about the past. The only thing that usually did was bring about tears and panic. I grabbed one of those heavy guns and walked over to the doorway. I had no idea how to use it. I suspected I needed to pull the trigger, though.

Bjorn opened the door, and suddenly I felt self-conscious. 

He barely even looked at me, holding the door open for me to enter the dark room beyond.

Immediately, the room lit up to reveal a huge circular space with four large zones separated by lines of red tape. There was an area in the middle and three large ones around. Each of the outer zones was filled with a sort of obstacle course, pillars and ropes and glowing switches, and at the top of each was a glowing sphere, one red, one blue, and one green. The central zone seemed to have three slots for the spheres.

"So..." said Bjorn, "I'm not going to be helping you. I mean, if you die you're not going to die permanently or anything, so it's not a huge deal if you get hurt. But you'll have to figure this out on your own. Remember, it's just a test. If you fail, I'll know what you need to be trained on."

"Who is training me?" I asked.

"I'll be your personal trainer," said Bjorn. His eyes fell to the floor. "You know... since you're the savior and all... as director it makes sense for me to train you."

"Of course you're my trainer," I muttered. "Okay, I'm ready."

"No you're not," said Bjorn. 

"What?" I said. "Why?"

"Your suit's on backwards."

I groaned and went back into the locker room, righting my suit.

"Ready now," I said.

Bjorn walked over to the wall and said, "Enter a zone."

I walked into the zone with the red sphere, and he tapped something on the wall.

Suddenly, lines glowed on my suit, down my chest and along my arms, across my waist and shoulders.

"Start!" called Bjorn.

I clutched the gun which I had no idea how to use and looked up at the sphere.

Well, I had wings.

I flew up, over that sort of obstacle course. This was too easy...

BAM! I was hit by something. I screamed as my arm broke, sharp hot knives of pain slicing through me. I wasn't a stranger to pain, what with my skinny body and Giovanna's tendency to throw bottles when she got angry, but I felt the pain more acutely than I ever had while living.

What had attacked me was a humanoid, blank-faced and winged. Its arms ended in knives and I gasped, trying to fly away from it.

Alas, my wing was broken, too.

The humanoid robot stabbed its knife arm through my chest.

I didn't hear the end of my scream because I had blacked out from the pain.