The Other Eight by Joseph R. Lallo Read Free Book Online Page A

Clark.”
    “Sean,” Aiken said. He furrowed his brow.
“Sean. C-L-A-R-K. Sean.” He was legitimately trying to say the
man’s real name, but his mouth simply wouldn’t cooperate.
    Summers chimed in. “Sean. S-S-S-Sean. Wow!
That’s so strange. I just can’t get the right word out.”
    “How do you envision putting this power to
use as part of a team, S-… Mr. Kent?”
    “I could go undercover, obviously.”
    “As a man named Sean,” Dr. Aiken said
fighting the urge to roll his eyes.
    “Now you’ve got it.”
    “Well,” Aiken said, straightening the papers
and handing them to his assistant. “Thank you for coming in. We’ll
be in touch.”
    Seanman shook hands with Aiken and Summers
and went on his way. When the door was shut, the doctor looked at
his assistant.
    “At least he wasn’t deranged or dangerous.
And it was a pretty neat trick. Probably not super-soldier
potential, though. Here’s the next one.” She handed him another
folder.
    Aiken flipped the file open, glanced across
the information, and braced himself for another session.
    “Send in number 361!” he called out.
    The door was pushed open, and in walked a
woman who, to say the very least, made quite a first impression. A
petite young woman, barely five feet tall and with a thin gymnast’s
build, she looked to be in her early twenties and of Asian descent,
but it was difficult to be sure thanks to the distracting outfit
she’d chosen to wear. She was dressed in a skintight latex catsuit
with a white and red starburst pattern. It was an outfit that would
have been lewd if not for the fact that her slender frame was
almost completely devoid of curves. On her feet were massive work
boots that had been painted to match the suit, and on her fists
were red gloves of the padded sort worn by MMA fighters. Her black
hair was pulled into a single lopsided pigtail, streaked with white
and red highlights, and black lipstick had been carefully applied
to her smirking lips. On her face was a pair of goggles that would
have looked more in place on an old-fashioned motorist. She also
wore a canvas belt, poorly dyed red to match the color scheme of
the rest of the outfit and weighed down with various pouches and
holders for everything from a cell phone to what seemed to be some
sort of martial arts equipment. With what could only be called a
cocky swagger, she strutted up to the interview chair and took a
seat.
    “Uh… we requested that our applicants not interview in costume,” Dr. Aiken said, heroically
attempting to act professional. “And unarmed. Are those
nunchakus?”
    “Oh?” She turned her head with a flourish of
pigtails, glancing at the door. “The guards are wearing their uniforms. Why shouldn’t I wear mine? And no, they
aren’t nunchakus. They’re non-chucks.”
    Aiken took a deep breath. This was going to
be one of those interviews. “Very well then. It looks like
you didn’t fill out your application fully. Please state your name.
Your real name, please.”
    “You mean my secret identity? No dice, Doc.
Classified.”
    He sighed. “We’ll go back to that later. Now,
about your codename…”
    She spread her hands out in front of her, as
if presenting her answer on a marquee. “Non Sequitur.”
    “Yes. I’m afraid that’s already taken.”
    She dropped her arms and shot him a stern
look. “What?”
    “That name has been assigned to another
applicant.”
    “Of course. Of course that would
happen.” She clucked her tongue and muttered under her breath,
leaning over to rummage through one of the pouches on her belt.
“Frickin’ perfect name. Perfect name. Already taken. Of
course.”
    “What would be your second choice?” Aiken
asked, tapping his pencil on the form.
    “Hold your horses. I’m getting it.” She
pulled a bundle of loose papers from the pouch. Each seemed to have
a sketch of an outfit and a name drawn out as a logo. One by one
she flipped through the bundle, discarding pages as she went.