Despite initial hesitation concerning the president’s criminal justice reform, it has become increasingly difficult to find a dissenting public opinion. The trend continues this year as crime rates fall and federal prisons close from a lack of necessity while rehabilitation clinics are more effective than ever before. Prison population is at an al-time low, with only fifty people per 100,000 facing incarceration. At this rate, experts predict the ability to consolidate violent, irredeemable criminals to a single federal prison by the end of the decade, replacing other locations with true rehabilitation opportunities. – Stephen Rutledge, 3 Anno Imperi Ortu

Not many people drive. Of course, there are public transportation options for people whose powers don’t offer another choice, but those subways are barely utilized. I’ve never someone who takes the bus – even those who live even further from school than I do. As I travel for the first time down this bumpy road, I begin to see why.

Perhaps it’s simply the nerves. I’m going to meet the Council. They were present at my Assessment, but I was five years old then. Outside of that, I have never had the chance to see my leaders, let alone speak with them. Still, as exciting as this is, I’m convinced it isn’t the sole reason for my churning stomach.

Houses blur past as the mysterious man turns the car through a maze of city streets. The glare from the glass and metal of the buildings is blinding, but I can’t take my eyes away. Not only am I in awe of the speed at which I’m moving, I’m also trying desperately to distract myself.

I still haven’t had lunch, so I don’t know what is physically present in my stomach to slosh around as the car hits another bump, but there’s definitely something. I clench my stomach, trying to hold in the vomit with my abdominals.

“Rough roads?” I mutter, looking through the window in the divider between myself and the driver. In the rearview mirror, I’m able to see his steely gaze. Suddenly I feel as though I understand Lance a bit more. Of course he’s threatened by me taking his spot when he’s already had to go through this torture on a weekly basis.

“Seriously though, do you think you could pull over? I might throw up.”

“No.”

“No?” I laugh bitterly. Biting back a growing sense of annoyance, I try to steady my voice. “No to which part? Because I can’t particularly control the second.”

Silence. I roll my eyes, although I know my displeasure will have no effect on the emotionless statue driving the car. The vehicle bounces violently as we turn down another street and then another. I think I’m starting to get used to it, and my stomach begins to settle down somewhat.

I whistle a melody, falling against my seat. Mostly, I’m simply trying to pester this man. The honor of meeting the Council is fading and leaving me with nothing but questions. I hate not knowing things, so the intentional secrecy is burdensome.

After all, they have interrupted my Recruitment without an explanation. I’d like to think that the Council wouldn’t allow me to be placed at a disadvantage, but their agent won’t offer me that assurance. I deserve at least some hint here. Though I know the odds aren’t good that he will respond, I harden my resolve and lean forward.

“Hey,” I start. “Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“The Council will make everything clear.”

“Descriptive. Anything else you can offer?”

Silence.

“Why did they interrupt Recruitment?”

Silence.

“What do they want to talk about?”

Silence.

“You know,” I groan, falling back again in disappointment. “The silent, imposing guard of the Council act loses its effectiveness when I’ve already seen you and heard your voice.”

I am once again treated to silence, but that seems to strike a nerve. He glances back at the mirror, catching my eye, and smirks mischievously. Then, as if I’d reminded him of his power, his smile begins to dissipate. He blinks but before his eyes open, they vanish as well. Before long, there is nothing left in the seat.

“Real mature,” I sigh. Finally giving up on my quest for information, I resolve to wait for the Council. I know my defiance won’t last when I see them, though. All the feigned confidence and Class I statuses in the world wouldn’t give me the nerve to question them to their faces.

Finally, I see city hall approaching in the distance. The majesty of this building baffles me again. I haven’t been here in twelve years, but my childish imagination had played no role in the extravagance of the architecture.

The car pulls to a stop as the street ends near a massive courtyard. Without waiting for the invisible driver’s instruction, I feebly step out of the car. My eyes are trained to the massive building itself as I stand on the pathway of the chiseled stone. The size alone is enough to make me feel small, almost insignificant.

Three rows of stairs, each with a small decorative landing between them, lead to a massive gateway. The gates only open ceremoniously for special events, and my recollection tells me that there’s a hidden door behind one of the pillars. On either side of the central gate are two pillars, each extending at least one hundred feet until they meet the overhanging ceiling. Each white pillar is plain, save for the sigil of one of the classes: Intellect, Sensor, Shifter, and Somatic. Spiraling structures are placed surrounding the pillars and trail to the ceiling. I learned in grade school that the pillars represent the First Council and the smaller spirals represent the hundreds of men and women who followed them. Together, they led us out of the Dark Times, and together they hold up our society.

The doorway itself is adorned with beautiful artwork and symbols drawn in lines, which seem almost chaotic to me but are still so clearly methodically planned. Everything points to the sigil of the Deathless. Beneath the sigil is our leader’s famous quote to his troops before the final battle in the War of Emergence: “In unity, we are strong. Do not fear death, for in death we are truly one.”

I blink a few times, trying to regain my composure. As I do, my eyes begin to adjust and break from their laser-focus. I notice my peripheral vision, as well as the things I’ve overlooked. Separating me from city hall is a four acre courtyard which is dwarfed by the building itself. In the center of the courtyard is a massive fountain. Water shoots from two ends of the circle in a majestic display, raining down over a few families splashing each other in the water.

The stone path circles around the fountain with two small offshoots leading directly to it. Vibrant green grass covers space around the path and fruitful trees are strewn – or rather methodically and intentionally planted – amidst that grass.

Directly in front of the fountain stands an exalted statue. Dante Amar, the Deathless and the leader of the council. To either side of him stand two others, his generals in the War of Emergence. These five individuals had served as the First Council and propelled our society to what it is today.

Silently, I stare at the scene in front of me, trying to take everything in. Suddenly, the reality hits me. The Council wants to talk to me. What reason could they possibly have? I had performed decently in my first two phases of Recruitment, but I don’t think anything of particular note made me stand out. For some reason the five most powerful people in the world disagree with me.

On an intellectual level, I had made my peace with that during the car ride. Riding in the back seat of a black car bound for city hall had sobered me up. Emotionally, though, I hadn’t been prepared for this to be a legitimate event in my life. With my eyes glued to the stone Dante before me, I wonder if I’m dreaming.

“Do you want to keep them waiting?” A gruff voice asks threateningly. Startled from my daze, I look around for the driver. A few meet from my left, he materializes and nods toward city hall.

“Y… Yeah,” I stammer mindlessly. Processing his question, I quickly correct myself. “I mean no.”

“Follow me,” he orders curtly. I am too awestruck to be annoyed by his attitude. Instead, I follow him along the stone pathway, walking between two of the looming statues. We work our way around the fountain and toward city hall’s gate. The closer I get, the larger this building seems. By the time I reach the gate, I have to crane my neck to see the top. I’m compelled to run my fingers along the door and trace the art, but the agent seems far less than enthused. Shaking off my amazement, I follow him away from the gateway. Behind a pillar on the left side of the building there is indeed another door, far more reasonable in size. It blends perfectly into the wall, but his experience has clearly made the door simple for him to locate.

Holding the door, he stands outside and waves at me. Slowly, cautiously, I step around him and enter the building. The interior is as extravagant as the exterior would suggest. A golden chandelier hangs in front of a massive staircase. Hallways split off in every direction, but I have no way to guess where they lead. Each hallway is opened with a great arch and lit with decorative candelabras.

Before I truly am able to appreciate my surroundings, I notice a man standing at the base of the stairs. Star-struck, I blink a few times as I try to confirm his identity. His blonde hair is parted to the left, leaving his glimmering blue eyes clearly exposed. His smile is so unique, but it’s recognizable from the statue. It’s impossible. Dante Amar could not possibly have come to personally greet me.

“Greetings, Mr. Adachi,” the Dante lookalike greets in a singsong voice. Stepping toward me, he extends his hand. I return the gesture but am unable to put any power into the handshake.

“I’m just a man,” Dante assures me, clearly able to sense my obvious discomfort. This is truly the leader of the known world.

“You’re a legend,” I stammer.

“Yes, well, that gives you no reason to fear me. A legend is a standard no one meets. Man is fallible, but we try.”

“You’ve done well enough,” I laugh.

“Some would say,” Dante replies with a smile. “Now, Mr. Adachi, you’re a Class I and we have only met once before. That is quite the injustice. My apologies. I should have been mentoring you more.”

I don’t know what to say. The first time I meet the leader of the world, he apologizes to me. Searching for words, I stare at the man and manage merely to shake my head.

“This must be a lot to take in,” Dante nods slowly. Crossing his arms, he leans against the banister of the stairway.

“It is,” I admit. “I have so many questions.”

“Go ahead.”

“What about Recruitment?” I ask. Dante breaks out laughing. For a moment, I think he’s going to double over and fall to the floor. When he composes himself, he straightens up and shakes his head.

“Recruitment?” He asks.

“My future rides on this. I don’t want to miss Phase 3.”

“My boy, this is Phase 3.”

“What?” Confused, I look around the room. I half-expect to find a dozen other students I hadn’t noticed before. How can they test each of us individually in the third phase? Anyway, it would be too far from the audience – the scouts wouldn’t like it.

“You’ve already been selected for your school, Mr. Adachi. I have chosen you myself.”

“You want me to be your apprentice?” I stammer.

“Not quite,” he responds. “You see, I haven’t found the need to train a successor. However, I would like you to train in the Battle School. Your leadership, courage, determination, and wit have convinced me that you’re an ideal candidate.”

“Me? A Peacekeeper?”

“Well, there’s still the matter of Phases 3 and 4. All candidates for any school go through four phases of testing – Battle School is no different. This is simply where your path diverges from your peers.”

“And if I fail.”

“Ah, an optimist,” Dante teases. The friendliness in his voice is almost off-putting. I never would have expected the hero of the war– the greatest commander of the resistance and the leader of society – to be so calm. He’d already fought his battle – maybe he is simply enjoying the fruits of it.

“I’m missing two phases of Recruitment,” I rationalize. Coldness returns to my voice as the splendor of meeting Dante begins to wear off quickly. I’ve made it this far by basing my decisions in logic, and I don’t plan to change that. “I may have convinced you that I deserve a chance in the Battle School, but I don’t think that means I’ve convinced anyone that I’ve earned a place in their school. If I fail here, I have no fallback.”

“True,” Dante admits. “But the Battle School is the most prestigious. Your school is always your choice, Mr. Adachi. If you don’t pass, it isn’t necessarily a skill issue, but there are hundreds of factors which go into the selection of Peacekeepers and Agents. That being said, I assure you that even attempting our examination will put you at the top of the list for every other school. Pass or fail, you will have that attempt – along with my recommendation – to get into the school of your choice.”

“Okay,” I accept slowly. I may have a choice in school, but for some reason I feel as though I don’t have a choice in participating in the Phase 3 test assigned to me by the Council. With a sigh, I nod slowly and reach out my hand in hopes to redeem myself for my first attempt at a handshake. Dante accepts my offer and shakes my hand firmly. Dropping my arms back to my sides, I exhale slowly. “So what is Phase 3?”

Instead of a verbal response, Dante simply lifts his hand and motions toward one of the many hallways. I don’t know what it is about government officials refusing to simply answer questions, but I decide not to press it. Careful to avoid displaying my reluctance, I turn from him and march confidently in the indicated direction.

I don’t know what the Council sees in me, but they are the ones who deemed me Powerless. Whether that’s changing or not, there is no evidence that whatever I’m developing is strong enough for a Peacekeeper. Crime is infrequent, but that doesn’t mean it’s nonexistent. If a Brawn is attacking someone, there’s no way I can get involved. If a Speedster runs, I can’t catch him. I don’t have the skills required. Unless there are Peacekeepers who work in the office to try to use logic to track down a suspect remotely, but that should be handled by an Intellect. Regardless, if Dante’s offer of granting me his recommendation is legitimate, this is my best chance to get accepted into another school. Anything outside of the Drone School will satisfy me. I just hope Rhett will be okay on his own.

There’s nothing I can do about that now. I have to focus on myself, and I have already been informed that everything which happens today is a part of Recruitment. I have no reason to suspect that’s changed merely because my environment and circumstances have. I will continue to act confident. I will earn my place.

Scanning the doors along the hallway, I realize that I have no idea where my destination lies. The corridor seems to extend indefinitely; am I simply to walk to the end? I notice a plate beside the door to my right with the name “David Anderson” engraved on it. Is this his office? If these rooms belong to individual Peacekeepers, it would be reasonable to assume that the testing is at the end of the hall.

With more confidence, I continue down my path. I scan through the names instinctively, searching for any I recognize. The identity of Peacekeepers is often kept secret – sometimes to the extent of wearing masks in public. It seems odd that any examinee would be allowed to see those names without discretion, but I can’t resist the opportunity. One name makes me stop in my tracks. Reading it twice, I confirm that the inscription says “Alexis Powell”. These aren’t the names of Peacekeepers – they’re examinees. Still, how did Alexis made it here? She is a Class V and her power is rather underwhelming. I’m not sure what happened for her in Phase 2, but she must have recovered well from her failure on my team in Phase 1.

With renewed resolve, I continue down the hall in search of my own name. As I proceed, I try to find other names I know. A few seem fairly familiar; Phillip Ellison, Hugh Dixon, Jade Cameron, and Danny Cunningham stand out particularly. I haven’t had much personal interaction with them, but they’re some of the top students of my year. Each of them, of course, is a Class II.

Finally, I reach the end of the hallway. An engraved plate on the last door to the left reads, “Carson Adachi”.

Nervousness takes over my body once again as I stand at the door and try to convince myself to open it. I can’t tear my eyes from the sign. They had taken the time to prepare these rather than simply writing our names on paper or summoning us like any other group. I don’t understand what’s happening, but something feels weird about it. Calmly, I convince myself that it’s just my paranoia talking. With their power, I have no question that this task is far from insurmountable from the Council.

As a way to avoid thinking myself in circles, I impulsively grab the handle and push open the door. No turning back now. Cautiously, I step into the dimly lit room. It’s empty except for a desk with two chairs in the center. A lamp with a dying bulb sits on the desk, providing the only light in the room. The door closes behind me, plunging me further into darkness. I reach out and find a light switch. When the room illuminates, I find my way to the desk and sit to wait.

No more than a few seconds after I sit, the door bursts open again. I start, but quickly compose myself and remain seated.

“Good afternoon, Carson,” a smug man in a white coat greets with a smirk. “Welcome to Phase 3.”

“Thanks,” I reply, trying not to sound too cold.

“You turned the light on, I see,” he notes. “Any reason? Afraid of the dark?”

“It seemed like the logical option,” I argue.

“Interesting,” he shrugs. As he sits across from me, he sets a clipboard on the desk and leans toward me. “Carson, I can call you Carson, right? Carson, I just have a few questions for you.”

“Actually,” I stop him. I’m beginning to get annoyed with his demeanor and superior attitude. Typically I don’t like to pull rank, but I am a Class I. That should award me more respect than this. “Let’s stick with Mr. Adachi.”

“Oh, yes sir,” he accepts, defensively raising his hands and leaning back. “Okay, Mr. Adachi, I have a few questions for you.”

“As long as I’m not late for Phase 3,” I sigh.

“Patience,” he reprimands. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Fair enough. Is there anything important about you?”

“Yes,” I respond curtly. I have trained myself to respond to sarcasm in turn.

“Okay, I’ll be more specific. What is your biggest strength?”

“I’m resourceful,” I respond thoughtfully, softening my tone. Maybe I am reacting too harshly.

“Interesting. And your greatest weakness?”

“I’m powerless,” I laugh, trying to mask the bitterness and resentment growing within me.

“Is that your weakness?”

“Yes,” I reply instantly. Granting myself a moment to think, I hesitate. “No. It’s made me who I am. I’ve had to fake confidence for so long that I’ve earned some. People look to me for guidance. I could be stronger, but maybe that would have made me more like the people with strength.”

“So, what is your greatest weakness?”

“Pride. I’m proud of who I am, even though I hate it sometimes. I hate losing. I won’t back down even when that’s the only logical option.”

“That’s the honestly I’m looking for,” the man nods, leaning back. “Are you afraid of looking weak?”

“I’m not afraid,” I retort. “I simply can’t.”

“Because you are?”

“No,” I snap. “Because if I look like I am, then I will be.”

“Why are you qualified to protect others?”

“What?”

“You’re powerless, you said so yourself. How can you stop a criminal.”

“I’m not the one who brought me in here.”

“But you are. You walked in of your own accord. You liked the idea. So tell me: what makes you capable?”

“I can outsmart them. I’ve had to my entire life.”

“If they’re an Intellect?”

“Then I outcompete them. Jack of all trades.”

“Why do you care?”

“What?”

“Peacekeepers are indiscriminate. You implied that you don’t like those with power. Could you protect them?”

“I protect the weak. If those with power are made weak, I will protect them.”

“But what if they’re strong?”

“Then they don’t need me.”

“Interesting. Let me move on to a thought experiment. Your partner is incapacitated. Peacekeepers are allowed to carry weapons, as I’m sure you know. However, we have a strict rehabilitation policy. The criminal is going to escape. What do you do?”

“I stop him by any means necessary.”

“I haven’t even told you a crime and you’re willing to shoot him?”

“If he hurt my partner, he’s dangerous.”

“I didn’t say he did.”

“It was implied,” I groan. The questions continue for another half hour as the researcher tries to trap me with my own words. I’m not sure what the point of this is, but it feels like he’s trying to distract me from Phase 3 and I begin to get annoyed.

Some of the questions have nothing to do with being a Peacekeeper. To me, it seems obvious. If one has power, one should utilize that power to stop others from hurting the weak. That is the role not just of Peacekeepers, but of good people in general. Regardless, this man seems to be able to talk me in circles and I find it quite cumbersome.

Finally, I realize that the man across from me is an Intellect. I should have known, given his white coat, but I hadn’t thought about it. The Council sent an Intellect to confuse me before I face the next phase of the test. This is clearly a way to get in the heads of the examinees. We have to be able to perform not only under pressure, but even if we’re concerned we have already failed. The conversation is supposed to ring through my head and keep me questioning, wondering if I had given the correct answers. Invariably, that will make Phase 3 more difficult.

I’ll prove myself. I won’t fall for their trick so easily. Closing my eyes as the researcher taps his pen and feigns realization of the time – which he clearly has been watching – I breathe slowly and meditate. I have to clear my mind.

“Alright, Mr. Adachi. Thank you for your time. Please report to the main hall, where you will meet the other examinees and be directed to Phase 4.”

“Okay,” I accept, standing up calmly. It takes a moment, but I freeze when I register his words. “Wait, Phase 4? What about Phase 3?”

“I thought you were ready for anything, Mr. Adachi,” the researcher teases. Apparently, my blank expression betrays me, because he taps his pen against the clipboard and stands.

“This was Phase 3?” I ask in disbelief.

“Exactly.”

Phase 3 was a verbal examination. I wasn’t expecting that in any way, and now I find myself running through my responses. I had let my guard down because the researcher had appealed to me emotionally. I’d dropped my act and responded to his questions because I had let myself believe I wasn’t being tested. I’m concerned, but it’s too late to change – all I can do is move forward.

“If Phase 3 was just a conversation, what’s Phase 4?”

“Being a Peacekeeper consists of two major parts,” the Intellect explains. “I can’t tell you more than that.”

Everything clicks in my head. Obviously, the Council choose a certain personality type to protect their city, so I was given a personality test. That only leaves one possibility for Phase 4. After all, it has to be called Battle School for a reason.