“Since Blackout’s self-induced disappearance from the public eye – at least, as far as our intel can tell – an era of small uprisings has begun. Low-grade villains fighting for the top spot, but none have what it takes to hold it. It’s a great time to be an established hero – lots of wins to be had!”

Jules muted the TV. “Attention on me, please.”

Elsie sat up a little straighter. Around her were a handful of heroes summoned to the meeting room where Jules gave his tactic talks, all grade four. The whiteboard hung from the wall behind him was stained with marker smears and the blinds along two other walls were half drawn. At the meeting of the two hung a flat-screen that kept the news rolling by. The final wall was clutching a door with gouge and burn marks. Elsie had never been privy to the kind of meetings that took place in here and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be involved in anything that got that heated.

“Our centre has been invited to take part in an exercise put on by the emergency services training department in partnership with the Hero Commission. I was asked to provide a selection of heroes that I feel could support this exercise and I’m confident that everyone at this table can show what our centre does best in partaking.”

Elsie felt a grin split her face and hurried to hide it. Everyone else looked cool and calm and professional. They got to take part in these things all the time. It was only her that just got patrols and paperwork and sometimes shadowing her mentor when he had no one else available…

Jules unfurled an enormous map of a down town street covered in symbols. “This is the area we have to work with.” Spread along the table between them all he began directing their eyes with a pointed finger. “These are vehicles, these are their designated emergency exits, and these...”

The disaster zone, albeit staged, stretched through a street of small businesses that had all signed off on a few hours of fake destruction weeks earlier. Despite the lack of real danger, or any villains, the sight of mobile command units and emergency service vehicles was enough to draw out the superfans that tracked the activity of the city, seismic readers in one hand and phones set to record in the other. The pros, whose blogs of hero happenings were their livelihood, had tripods and fold-out chairs and tape recorders for interviews that couldn’t be erased by a certain supervillain who shall not be named for fear they arrive to erase this account too. Elsie had much more time for the superfans than the crappy news channels that stole their footage to exaggerate every sighting into something it wasn’t. They spent hours speculating and stirring the pot. The superfans just liked to see superheroes, get a glimpse of the suits, some of them had a special interest in the machinery used for missions. They were spectators, not fabricators. Their interest in the hero business was genuine. Mostly respectful. One day they’d master following the direction, “Please drive on.” Often followed by, “Yes, through the cones. Don’t stop there. Please put your phone down and drive on.”

Without having experience to act on, emergencies often made people’s ears stop working, or maybe just their ability to understand what they were hearing… Either way, Elsie would never be one of those opposing The Berg’s tactic of manhandling civilians out of the way. In the coin toss of dead or injured she knew which she would prefer.

Cool air skimmed her hair, rustling out some stray flicks from the braided buns that Tam had constructed for her. It was a nice day. It would be nicer if someone gave her something to do. The majority of those from her training centre were on standby to help the actors climb in and out of their positions amongst previously mashed-up cars and lampposts that had been kept for the occasion. They didn’t get to take part in the actual exercise… watching was good experience too, she supposed.

A grade 3 hero, with a dedicated starting position for the training exercise scribbled on the whiteboard and everything, sidled up alongside Elsie after waiting an age for her call to come. She wore a mauve and silver suit that was tight to her form. All the easier to fly smooth and swift. Silver Skipper was looking right at her. “You’re Emerald, right?”

“Emerald Eclipse,” Elsie corrected with a self-conscious laugh. She was barely a D-list hero, it made sense that Silver Skipper wouldn’t know her name. Your superhero name never felt sillier than when you had to say it out loud yourself. Like begging someone to call you by your stage name or username. “Nice to meet you.” She put her hand out. “I saw that clip of you treating Fleet’s dupes like an obstacle course, very cool.”

Silver Skipper grinned and shook it. “Glad it looked that way. It felt like I was inches from taking a brick to the face.”

“Sorry to hear he escaped again.”

She sighed, looking out to the city’s skyline. “It’s a shame, but those of us that have the powers to handle villains won’t take up the prison roles. They pay pittance, there’s no fame and glory, and the uniforms suck.”

Elsie nodded. She’d rather return home and work for her dad than end up babysitting other heroes’ captures.

A crackling intercom voice bellowed from the nearest command unit, “Genuine call-in. Genuine call-in. Villains on scene.” Genuine was the ‘safe word’ of the exercise. As in, genuine meant genuine.

“Fuck,” Silver Skipper huffed. She flew straight up into the air, like a rocket, and surveyed the scene.

Elsie ran to the command unit and was met by firefighters sealing their protective gear, police handing out riot gear, and ambulance crew lining up first response gear. Heroes didn’t have special gear. They had only their own powers to rely on and their suits to keep them covered. Since Elsie had nothing to seal or be handed or prepare she smiled weakly at the fire and rescue commander wiping and rearranging the whiteboard.

“Powers?” he snapped at her.

“Invulnerability, telekinesis and I can see through some materials.” It would not be wise to mention her hover-hopping and then fail in a moment of pressure. It wasn’t even particularly useful yet.

“You got live experience?”

“Alongside my mentor, yes.”

He pulled a face as though fighting not to roll his eyes.

“I can help,” she bleated. “I won’t involve myself in anything I can’t handle. I can run recon if you like. I’m hard to hurt so I can take personal risks your guys can’t.”

This, he liked the sound of. He didn’t smile, but his irritation lines softened. “Fine. Take a radio and follow orders exactly as you’re given them. No flashy shit. If someone from the supers comes to collect you, you go.”

Elsie nodded tightly. A firefighter covered top to toe in layered uniform extended a chunky black radio with tatty tape stripes in various colours stuck to the sides. On a board just inside the mobile unit, he scribbled a number and then turned back to inspect her ID badge, adding her hero alias beside the number. The commander tested her line, his voice fuzzy through the tiny speaker. Elsie replied through the radio, confirming her end worked too.

“Red zone.” The commander jabbed at the whiteboard. “Hide the actors and volunteers in low-risk spots, report where you’ve put them, report any injuries.”

“Yes, sir.”