I had been waiting about 45 minutes when a small beige woman opened the door and called my number.
"Seven hundred and seventy seven." She looked around the waiting room both expectantly and if I wasn't mistaken, bored. This rattled me, I had just spent the last 15 minutes pondering the fact that at 10:14 AM with five other people in the waiting room, the slip of now damp paper in my hand read 777. That's seven HUNDRED. Did they already see 776 applicants this morning? Or did they not start the numbering process over each day? If not, how long has it taken them to get to 777+ interviewees? I was lost down this rabbit hole in my mind when the beige woman with a tight bun and glasses opened the door.
"Seven hundred and seventy seven." She said it louder and slower this time. I pinched myself on the inside of my thigh. Hard. The tall man sitting two chairs away from me followed my hand with his eyes. I ignored him.
"Here." I said, standing up. Then thinking that it sounded too much like a classroom reply, I tried again. "That's me." I sang out. Gah, what's wrong with me. "I'm seven hundred and seventy seven." I clenched my jaw. No more words, keep quiet! The beige woman looked at me, nothing about her changed. No smile, no nod, no frown even. Do I go with her? Or do I wait for her to invite me in? Keep your mouth shut. She pushed the door wider and stepped back. That was enough of an invitation for me. I did my signature hair toss as I left the waiting room knowing it would intimidate the others, make them powerless. I followed the tight bun on the back of her head as she led me down a short open hallway with cubicles to the left. I imagined the inhabitants were sneaking peeks at their soon to be--. I pulled myself up short. I had nearly run into the woman who had stopped in front of me at an office door.
"Please go in." She gestured. My stomach flipped over, I was so excited to finally be here. At last I was interviewing with the top brass for my dream job. I sat in the chair she pointed me to and looked across a modest desk to an empty ergonomic chair. Where was my interviewer? Where was he when I had made my entrance? First impressions are everything and he missed my signature hair toss. The beige woman shut the door and walked behind me, around the desk and sat down. I stared at her and tried to get myself under control. Shit shit shit shit, SHE is the interviewer. I had thought she was the… the what? Secretary? Receptionist? Administrative assistant? Shit shit shit. Without looking at me, she deftly shuffled through the papers in a file in front of her marked with the number 777.
"My name is Khshayarsha." She made a small clicking sound at the front of her name. "I am head of acquisitions and applicants." She still did look at me, but continued to examine several items in my folder.
"Ahh… Nice to meet you… " I hesitated, then decided to not risk using her name and screwing it up. "I'm –" She held up her hand and I stopped mid sentence. Her hand stayed there as her eyes zipped across a page of writing. I wished I had brought a bottle of water with me. She lowered her hand and looked up.
"I have your application, required paperwork and blood test results here, but we seem to be missing your references." Her eyes were bland and colorless.
"Really? What?" I stalled "They aren't there? Well, that's strange." I made my face look puzzled. "I'll get another copy to you ASAP. I hope someone didn't take them." I grinned charmingly, "They might get a mighty strange reference if they didn't know who they were. My references, that is. If they didn't know who my references were. That my references were for me." That had sounded cleverer in my head. I performed a small head to toss to cover my awkwardness. The beige woman just looked at me a moment and then went on.
"I will be asking you a few questions here. Then we will do a brief physical exam." She indicated a curtained off area in the corner of the office. "Then we will proceed to demonstrations of strengths and talents."
"Sounds good to me!"
"Yes, quite." She paused "Shall we begin?"
"Yes… Ma'am." I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat and felt the corners of my smile quiver. Dammit girl, pull yourself together! She cocked her head a little to the side.
"Why are you here?"
"Uh, I'm applying for a position?"
"Of course you are. All the applicants are. Why are you here?" Her voice was even and smooth, her expression didn't change an inch. What does she mean? What does she want? Shit shit shit. Then it clicked, I sat up taller and lifted my chin.
"I am here because I have special abilities and I think-- No, I KNOW I can be a superhero. I have been helping and saving people my whole life and I am only getting better and better at what I do. Everyone tells me all the time that I need to apply here and get formally recognized and accepted by the league of superheroes so I can better fulfill my destiny." OK, that last part isn't exactly true but I do tell myself that all the time. The woman across the desk listened to my statement, and still her expression didn't change.
"I see." She wrote on a notepad. I tried to read it upside down but it was in some sort of shorthand and just look like squiggles and dots.
"Go on."
"Well, my superpowers include-." She held up her hand and I stopped.
"No, you will show me during the demo part of your interview. I want to hear why you are here."
"Oh, yes, I see." Actually, no I don't. "Well, my instinct is to save people, I am attracted to their need without them having to say anything. I can sense their need and so I have to… I WANT to… I NEED to save them."
"But why?"
"Huh?"
"Why do you do it?"
"Because I have to."
"Why do you have to?"
"Uh, because it is my destiny? It is my purpose in life."
"What is your purpose?"
"What's my purpose?" I frowned, this was going in circles. "My purpose is to be a Superhero. To save people."
"Why?"
"Why what?" I barely held back the snap in my voice. I licked my lips.
"Why save people?"
"Why save people?!" I was dumbfounded "Because that's what we do! That's what superheroes do, that's our destiny and it's imperative that we fulfill it." She was jotting down more notes and I noticed a lot of them were circles.
"To paraphrase you then, the purpose of a superhero is to fulfill their own destiny?"
"Yes, thank you!"
"And what is the destiny of the people they are saving?"
"Huh? I'm not sure what you mean."
"Is their purpose, or their 'destiny', to be the recipient of your rescuing?"
"Well yeah."
"And the ultimate purpose, in your mind, the divine reason for the existence of superheroes is…?"
"...is to be all that we can be and live up to the recognition and adulation that is bestowed upon us." I finished triumphantly.
"What about to be of service to others and make sure their lives are secure so they can fulfill their own purposes?"
"Yeah. Sure, that too." We sat and looked at each other for a long moment.
"We can come back to that in a bit." She dropped her gaze and pulled out another form with my writing on it. "So, tell me your name."
"Which name?" Strangely enough, I saw she cracked a tiny, small smile at that. Whatever. "Do you want my superhero name or my real name or my alias?"
"Let's start with your superhero name." I performed my signature hair toss and said,
"Rapunzel"
"And what is an alternative name?"
"What do you mean?"
"What other names could you use instead? Rapunzel is a bit too fairytale, but mainly it is already highly associated with a well known figure from regional folktales and a specific commercial conglomeration." She looked at me over the top of her glasses, her pen poised to write.
"I thought about 'Super Tresses'." I offered reluctantly, she nodded.
"That's a little better. What else?" I frowned. Rapunzel what is my superhero name. I didn't want to change it.
"What else?" She repeated. I thought for a moment.
"Madame Pompadour?"
"That has the same issues as Rapunzel."
"Uh, Goldilocks? No, never mind. Umm, Mohawk?"
"Better. But let's put a couple more down, shall we." My cheeks were hot and my hands clenched into fists. I took a deep breath and folded my hands in my lap.
"Razor-cut." I hoped she COULD hear the sarcasm in my voice. Apparently, she didn't.
"Good! Another?" I began to mechanically grind out words, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Beehive. Dreadlock. Pixie. Chignon."
"Thank you, I think that is enough. I am highlighting the ones that are my recommendations." I saw that she had selected Beehive, Dreadlocked, and The Pixie. "I'm going to highlight Razor-cut also, but that may not be iconic enough." She looked at me over the top of her glasses, "I assume you're fine with adopting any of these hairstyles associated with your ultimate superhero name." I nearly choked and barely refrained from shouting at her. But the word came out much louder than I intended anyway.
"NO!" This time her expression finally changed…a little. Her eyebrows raised just a fraction and her eyes narrowed just a fraction. I felt the sweat beginning to form in various places. I heard my breath going in and out, sounding ragged, but my brain felt so very far away. She slowly set her pen down and her eyes never left me as she sat very straight in her ergonomic chair. She adjusted her glasses with one hand.
"I don't believe I understand."
"My hair!" I gasped "MY HAIR! It's… it's… my crowning glory! It's my superpower! I've used it a couple of times already! How could you not have noticed? Are you blind?" Her face slowly turned to stone, but I didn't care. "I'm sure you noticed. I mean how couldn't you not notice?" I waved my hands around my head "My signature move? The hair toss?" I shook my head at her knowing there were waves of golden tresses swirling around my face; knowing how impressive I looked. I shook my magnificent head at her. "No?" I couldn't quite repress the little 'tsk' that followed. Her lips pursed ever so slightly and I felt a thrill run up my spine. She placed both palms flat on the desk and leaned forward just slightly. I couldn’t look away from her.
"Let us be very clear here. You attempted to use an unauthorized, unapproved superpower during an interview for application for admittance to the League of Superheroes upon the entity interviewing you? Is that what you are telling me?"
"Yes. Well, no. I didn't ATTEMPT to use it. I did use it. How could you have missed it? Are you immune to us or something?"
"Us?"
"Yeah, 'us'! Super heroes?" I failed at keeping the unspoken 'duh!' out of my voice at the end of the sentence. But I didn't care. This bland woman was an idiot. What is this? Some sort of test? Combat and defeat the Mistress of Idiocy? She chuckled then, low and dangerous, leaned back in her ergonomic chair and folded her arms.
"OK, you win. It's demonstration time. Show me your super powered …hair."
"Finally!" I stood up, shook my arms and legs, and stretched a little side to side. These were unnecessary moves but I knew I look good doing them. I stared her straight in the face and ran my hand under my hair at the back of my neck. With rehearsed ease I gave my crowning glory a fantastic flip. And I waited. But the reaction wasn't what I expected. In fact, there was no reaction at all. The beige woman nodded encouragingly.
"Go ahead." She prompted.
"I just did!" I repeated the move with more force, directing it with everything I had full at her bland face.
"I. Am. Rapunzel!" I thundered. She looked at me.
"Oh dear. I believe I understand now." She picked up her pen and began making notes. My vision narrowed and became a little fuzzy around the edges. My heart echoed loud beats in my ears.
"How dare you! How dare-" She held up her hand without looking at me and my jaw clamped shut. She pointed her index finger at me and I sat down without intending to. I raised my hand to activate my hair again. She drew a vertical line in the air and my arms clamped tight to my sides, my knees and ankles crashed together and remained pressed tight. I growled low in my throat and then pitched it as high and loud as I could. She touched her fingertip to her lips and all sound disappeared from my body. She continued, at leisure, to make notes. When she finished writing, she put her pen in a cup filled with other pens and gathered all my papers in one neat pile. Slowly and deliberately she slipped them into the folder marked 777. She sighed and I swear she looked at me with pity.
"I wish there were a gentle way to tell you this." She stopped herself and shook her head. "No, that's not true." She gave me a hard look. "It's people like you—. Listen to what I am going to tell you and hear me well. You. Do. Not. Have. Superpowers. In. Your. Hair. You are NOT a superhero." She stared at me a moment. To my horror, I could feel a wave of pity wash over me. No! Don't you dare! Don't you dare pity me! Don't you dare do that to me! Do you know who I am?
"I know you are not a superhero. You are arrogant, entitled, narcissistic, and completely unaware. You cannot see the world beyond your own needs and wants. Your opportunistic manipulation of others is what you consider your 'superpower' and that goes against the entire concept of what we represent here." She made a quick flip of her hand and I was free to move again. I tried to speak but nothing came out.
"Yes, I'm sure you've noticed that I haven't released your vocal chords yet. If you follow my instructions, I will. When you exit this building, which you will do quickly and quietly, stand on the sidewalk outside of the entrance to the building. I will be able to see you from this window." She gestured behind herself "Then and only then, will I release you fully. You will then leave the area immediately. I suggest you find employment elsewhere." She looked me up and down, then rummaged in a drawer and handed me a business card. "You may want to consider this organization." I would swear there was a twinkle in her eyes.
"You can tell them I referred you." She indicated the door. "That is all." She picked up my entire file and slid it into the basket marked “Rejected”. I looked at the card in my hand. It was made from some sort of very, very thin and very, very cold metal.
The Supreme Order of Super Villians
Chapter House # 1499
“Semper Malus”
