Director March’s office was smaller than I expected it to be. There was room for her desk, a couple of bookshelves along one wall, and a few chairs. It was maybe fifteen feet square with no pictures of family or art besides one large print of George Washington that hung on the wall facing the desk. Sitting behind the desk was who I presumed to be the Director of the Protection Forces. He was an older man with gray hair, cut short in almost a buzz cut. His suit looked expensive but his tie was plain. He smiled as I walked in.

“Misha, Misha, Misha,” he said, beaming, “the woman of the hour. Our own personal heroin of the Cain Center, come in and have a seat.”

He stood and gestured to the chair opposite him. I tried to smile without being too awkward and sat down.

“I’m Colonel Todd Trenton, in charge of the Protection Forces,” he held out his hand for me to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Colonel,” I replied and very carefully shook his hand.

“Ooh, quite the grip you’ve got,” he winced.

“Sorry,” I said at once, releasing his hand. “I’m still learning to control my strength.”

“Not to worry,” he chuckled. “I knew the risks when I offered my hand to you.”

There was a brief pause while he shook out his hand and flexed his fingers.

“What can I do for you Colonel Trenton?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. I just wanted to get this over with.

“Well let’s get straight to the point, shall we?” He relaxed into his chair, knitting his fingers together in his lap. “I, that is to say the Protection Forces, needs you. We’re facing new challenges every day and someone with your abilities can mean the difference between life and death for hundreds, if not thousands of innocent lives. Your actions here over the last few days have proven that you have what it takes to be an exemplary member of the Protection Forces. We can expedite your application and have you flying out to our training facilities today. Annual compensation starts at one hundred thousand and moves up from there, with bonuses and hazard pay for any conflicts you engage with.”

“I haven’t finished my training here,” I cut in as soon as he paused to take a breath. “Don’t I still need to learn how to not be a hazard to those around me? Even basic life skills are a difficult for me. I was learning to chop vegetables today and that wasn’t exactly easy.”

“I completely understand your concern,” he replied breezily, “and we will of course continue your self control training. You would simply take on the additional Protection Force training as well. I assure you it isn’t as onerous as it may sound. Four to eight hours of classes and or training per day, with weekends off for leisure time. Training will last for six to eight months and then you’ll begin your service with the Protection Forces in earnest.”

“I haven’t even finished high school, though,” I protested, knowing it was a weak argument since the Protection Forces didn’t require a high school diploma.

“You can pursue your education while a member of the Protection Forces,” he grinned. “After the first year of service you can move to three-quarter time and spend the extra time on education. You can even take the G.E.D. and apply for college. There are some very handsome scholarships available for our nation’s armed forces and those extend to the Protection Forces.”

“I really don’t know if I’d be a good fit,” I protested. “I’m really not much of a soldier.”

“Misha, you charged headlong into rocket fire in an effort to save your fellow supers,” Colonel Trenton scoffed. “Do you know how many soldiers would brave that, powers or not?”

I shrugged and looked down into my lap.

“Misha,” he went on, “I know I can come off as a bit much sometimes, and my enthusiasm to have you join us is hard to contain, but I want to assure you that we will not be throwing you into danger needlessly, nor will you be alone. You’ll have teammates backing you up, you’ll have training to help you know what to do in difficult situations, and you’ll have the best gear in the world.”

“What if I go and then decide it isn’t the right fit for me?”

“As you are still a minor, if, at any time before you turn eighteen you change your mind, you’ll be free to back out. Once you become a legal adult you’ll be sworn in for a four year term. At the end of those four years you can either reenlist or move on with you life.”

That would give me about eight months to reconsider before my eighteenth birthday. I didn’t want to think what my dad would say if I accepted the offer. I knew he didn’t want me to join, but everyone her seemed to think I was perfect for the job. I couldn’t deny the fact, either, that I was intrigued by the prospect. I didn’t like the idea of fighting, but protecting people, being a hero, did have a certain appeal. If I could help others, shouldn’t I?

“I should also mention, Misha,” Director Trenton went on, “that you’ll be qualified for an immediate rank advancement because of what you’ve done here.”

“Rank?” I asked, confused.

“Of course,” Director Trenton chuckled. “We’re part of the military, the army, to be specific, and you’ll be given a rank, Private First Class. You’ll be a leg up on the other new recruits. That means better pay, more respect, and you’re just that much higher up on the ladder.”

I wasn’t too concerned about being higher ranked than anyone but if I had to start somewhere, being even one step above the bottom sounded nice.

“And I can just leave before my eighteenth birthday if I don’t like it?” I asked.

“Well, let your commanding officer know, but yes. If you get there and decide it isn’t working out for you, then you’re free to leave, until you’re eighteen and sworn in. Then it’s a four year contract.”

That would give me time to really see for myself whether or not I wanted to be in the Protection Forces, and it would at least stop everyone from pestering me about it. If I didn’t like it I could at least say I tried it.

“Alright,” I finally said with a heavy sigh.

“I knew you’d say yes,” Colonel Trenton beamed. “There’s a minor bit of paperwork to sign,” he said, pulling out a short stack of papers. “Go ahead and read through that, signing where I’ve marked in red. While you do that I’ll notify your parents.” He slid the papers over to me and then stood up, pulling out his phone and walking to the door. “I imagine they’ll be quite proud to hear about what you’ve done here.”

He left me in the room with the papers and a pen. Outside I could hear his muffled voice but couldn’t make out any of what he was saying. Not wanting to know how sad my dad would be, I instead focused on flipping through the pages and signing wherever I saw a red line.