MIRA

I woke the same way I always did, with a start in an empty tube. The beep of the computer machinery working was steady, as it always was in my dreams. 

The door of the tube opened, and I lifted the face mask off, putting it on its proper hook. Being neat and orderly was drilled into us at a young age. 

It was then to the drawer marked as mine. All of us moved in near-sync, from sixteen years of matched rhythms and training.

I pulled out my uniform and took it into the showers area. We had five minutes, cold water only. Heroes didn't need luxury, after all. We were meant to serve others, we were meant to be selfless.

We were meant to need as little as possible.

Our black practice suits were utilitarian, made to be easily repaired, stand up through damage, and allow us to train easily. Our boots fit well to our feet, and didn't have laces we can trip over.

I put my shoulder-length hair up into a short, stubby ponytail that more resembled a messy bun atop my head. It gave less surface area for a place to grab. The only reason we all had impractical hairstyles is because attractiveness was part of our genetic engineering.

We were meant to be heroes.

Breakfast took place not in our squad's kitchenette area, but in the large cafeteria that all Sentinels share. The ones who were on duty wore their uniforms, red and gold padded jumpsuits with gauntlets and armored boots, a mask, and no cape.

Being friendly to the civilians and fitting their image of what a hero is was just as important to Atomic Energy as our safety and security. If not more. 

We all sat in our squads. Technically, we were free to mingle, and most of the other squads did. But when Dr. Banning kept failing us, saying we weren't ready, up to a year after everyone else was already working in the field, the others really didn't want much to do with us.

"Heads up," Ryder said.

I glanced behind me to see that one of the more popular heroes and heroines were making their way towards us: Birdie, who could talk to animals, and Kade, who could generate electricity.

I rolled my eyes, quicker than everyone else could see.

Birdie, I could tolerate, although her voice nearly sent me over the edge every time I had a conversation with her.

It was Kade that made me want to leave the room.

"I see the slow ones finally made it." He adjusted his mask. "Tell me, how long has it been?"

"I think it's been a year, but sometimes we're late bloomers," Birdie added in her nasally voice.

"Why are you here?" I couldn't stop myself from speaking.

Birdie frowned, looking hurt. "We just wanted to wish you good luck."

"And tell you that we'll be patrolling, so you'll have good backup when you need to call it," Kade said, still holding onto his swagger.

"When?"

"It's not worth it," Sage said, grabbing my hand.

I sighed as the two heroes walked away.

"They mean well," Ryder chided.

"No they didn't!" I cried. "Look, I know we all don't talk to others much, but come on! Kade was totally throwing it in our faces!"

"Focus on eating," Ryder said, big brown eyes looking straight into mine. "You need it more than the rest of us."

I looked down to my oatmeal, which had an unhealthy amount (for a normal person) of protein powder in it.

It tasted awful— but I wasn't supposed to care. This wasn't about me. It was about the people of New Kingsbury.

I swallowed, ignoring the awful taste in my mouth as I tried to focus on my duty, my purpose.

Dr. Banning called us to a part of the Sentinels facility that I had never seen before, a warehouse where everyone got their costumes.

On the floor of the warehouse, seamstresses worked on stitching back-ups of costumes already in action, and weaving the trademarked textiles designed by engineers on Atomic Energy's payroll.

We were lead up a skinny minimalistic metal staircase to one of the designers' studios. It was a large room, with five dressing rooms against one wall, for the standard squad size. There were fabrics strewn all over the sewing tables, with patterns and pincushions, burying the poor sewing machines.

In the center of the room were five mannequins. In front of the mannequins were small cardboard boxes with manilla folders on top. 

"Last night our expert designers finished the perfect hero costumes for you," Dr. Banning said. "Inside are matching hero identities. Wait a minute— I want to get some pictures!"

She opened her phone and started making us pose before allowing us to open the boxes and folders.

I opened the manilla folder first—inside were the design sketches of my costume, the concept art for the version in front of me on the mannequin. Nestled behind it was a sheet of hero rules and objectives as a mandate from Atomic Energy and my hero card.

This ID could be shown to the police, and would give me permission to be a part of any crime scene throughout the city of New Kingsbury. 

On it was the Atomic Energy logo, my face, and my hero name.

I frowned. Mercury was supposed to be my hero name. Not what I would have chosen— but then again, I wasn't sure what I would have chosen. 

I looked up at the mannequin. It was one of the standard variations on the basic design for Sentinel costumes. 

There was the jumpsuit, with a high collar and a zipper label that carried the logo of Atomic Energy on it. It was color-blocked in red, gold, and white, with the shoulders and silhouette resembling a 1950s varsity jacket. 

The legs were padded along the knees and fed into also padded white boots with safety straps and red soles. 

The gauntlets varied based on each design in colors, but were always fingerless and made us look like the superheroes in the movies nowadays.

The looks were finished with a simple gold belt, which also carried the Atomic Energy logo, and a simple red mask. 

A glance at my concept art told me I'd have to change how I did my hair. A high, sporty ponytail was now required—not that I had that much hair for there to really pull off what they wanted. 

Guess I'll have to work on growing it out, then. 

I glanced at the others. 

"What are you guys's names?" Sage asked. "Mine is Sunshine?"

"Mercury." I didn't feel so bad about mine anymore.

"Class Act," Ryder said, blushing.

"Mystic." Verity looked rather proud.

"Amulet." Aleister shrugged. "A bit of a mouthful, but it'll do."

"Now, now, you all have good names," Dr. Banning chided, a hand on her hip. "The people here at Costuming and Identities worked very hard on making you a good, marketable persona."

For some reason, that made me feel uncomfortable, but I said nothing, instead leaning down to open the box. This was my future, this was everything I was born to be, created to be.

Why didn't I feel ready?

"Right, go on, get changed." Dr. Banning gestured towards the dressing booths and she lifted her smartphone again. "I want to get as many pictures as possible! My babies are about to go on their first patrols and missions tomorrow!"