Progress, of a sort. Even if it comes with a soundtrack of Toyota financing announcements.

  Snake Oil spends the next ninety minutes working through four more candidates with increasingly obvious impatience. Dr. Sarah Cohen demonstrates impressive technical credentials but asks uncomfortable questions about our quality assurance protocols and regulatory compliance ("Who oversees your research ethics board?" "What documentation do you maintain for adverse reactions?"). Matthew Williams shows enthusiasm for our philosophical approach but reveals fundamental gaps in his understanding of organic chemistry when asked to explain basic synthesis pathways. Jennifer Torres possesses both technical competence and ideological alignment, but her responses to Snake Oil's more aggressive questioning suggest she'd struggle under his particular management style.

  By four-thirty, I'm reviewing our notes with cautious optimism. Aurora Reyes remains our most promising candidate despite her educational limitations. Dr. Rebecca Foster demonstrated both competence and flexibility, though her questions about organizational structure warrant further investigation. Thomas Wright's technical qualifications are excellent, but his philosophical rigidity makes him unsuitable for our operational requirements.

  "TOYOTA-THON CONTINUES WITH SPECIAL FINANCING OPTIONS. SPEAK WITH OUR SALES TEAM ABOUT ZERO PERCENT APR AVAILABILITY."

  "So far we have three solid maybes," I summarize, tapping my fountain pen against my legal pad. "Aurora's enthusiasm is exactly what we need, even if her formal education is lacking. Foster has the credentials and seems comfortable with moral ambiguity. Wright is technically qualified but ideologically inflexible."

  Snake Oil nods, reviewing his tablet notes. "Aurora's unconventional research approach could be valuable. Her insights about alternative delivery methods..." He trails off, still processing the implications of enhancement-modified explosives and aerosol applications.

  "Though we should probably discuss the diversity metrics," I add, consulting our candidate demographics. "Aurora gives us another Hispanic team member, which is useful for market penetration in Latino communities. But we're still heavily weighted toward white males in technical positions."

  "Jackpot and Dead Drop are both Hispanic," Snake Oil points out. "We're not exactly lacking diversity. Also, we're terrorists."

  "True, but they're field operatives rather than research staff. And honestly, having Aurora as our only woman in a senior technical role might create some optics issues down the line. Market research suggests diverse teams perform better, especially when targeting varied demographic segments."

  Snake Oil makes a dismissive gesture. "I care about competence, not demographics."

  "Which is admirable in principle, but we're running a business that depends on broad market appeal. Customer base diversification requires team diversification. Plus, varied perspectives improve problem-solving capabilities - Aurora's unconventional approaches prove that point."

  Before Snake Oil can respond with what would undoubtedly be a lecture about meritocratic principles versus demographic considerations, or maybe another reminder that we're terrorists and not a business, a knock interrupts our discussion.

  "Enter," I call, checking my watch. Four-forty-five - our final scheduled interview.

  The door opens to reveal someone who immediately challenges my assumptions about both our interview process and our candidate screening protocols. He enters in a wheelchair, moving with the practiced efficiency of someone long accustomed to navigating spaces designed for ambulatory individuals. His appearance is striking - not conventionally handsome, but possessed of an intelligent intensity that suggests significant depth beneath the surface. Dark skin, hair styled in a natural afro that adds to his height, wire-rimmed glasses that give him an academic appearance despite his obvious youth. Almost cherubic. Cute, even.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  I find myself grateful for the monkey mask, as it conceals my reflexive eyebrow raise. How exactly did someone with obvious mobility limitations complete our scavenger hunt's physical challenges? The process was specifically designed to test both intellectual capability and physical resilience – abandoned building navigation, timed coordination tasks, endurance requirements that would challenge able-bodied candidates.

  "Mr. Franklin," I begin, gesturing toward the folding chairs while simultaneously wondering about accessibility accommodations. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'm the hiring manager, this is Dr. Oilson, our research director."

  He wheels closer to the desk with casual confidence, parking his chair at an angle that allows easy interaction with both interviewers. No awkwardness, no apparent self-consciousness about the accommodation requirements. Either remarkable personal confidence or extensive experience with professional interviews despite his apparent youth.

  "Pleasure to meet you both," he says, and I'm taken off guard by really, honestly just how young he sounds. He can't be older than 25. Well, neither could Aurora, but she's got a fire dragon, and he has a wheelchair, so there's really not a fair competition there. "I do have a couple other aliases, also, if you--"

  I wave a hand. "Don't worry. We'll get around to that,"

  Snake Oil's attention sharpens immediately. Our screening process was designed to identify candidates with both technical competence and practical experience with enhancement substances. Someone operating under a supervillain alias suggests hands-on familiarity with our market segment.

  "Tell us about your background with our product," I begin, settling into my standard interview rhythm while privately calculating how wheelchair accessibility might affect our lab setup requirements.

  He shifts slightly in his chair, his expression becoming more serious. "I've been on Fly for a while now and it hasn't worn out yet. Specifically a variant that allows temporary limb replacement and mobility enhancement. Without it..." He gestures toward his legs with matter-of-fact directness. "Well, let's just say your product has been transformative for my quality of life. I've also a regular supplier for a Jump variant that supplies some regeneration - I had to make sure it wouldn't respond explosively to my existing Fly dose, but it's been very nice for getting, you know, restful sleep. Haha."

  Interesting. Fly is definitely not something that's gone unmentioned, but someone bringing it up as their primary point of contact with our organization is... different from the usual chaff.

  "And your technical background?" Snake Oil interjects, his tone carrying the usual edge of professional skepticism.

  "PhD work in biochemistry at Penn, though I didn't complete the program due to... circumstances." His pause suggests complexity in his academic departure that warrants further exploration. "Undergraduate degree in molecular biology, extensive research experience in pharmaceutical synthesis and quality control protocols."

  These credentials immediately elevate him above most candidates we've interviewed today. Doctoral-level training, pharmaceutical research experience, institutional familiarity with controlled substance protocols. The combination suggests both theoretical knowledge and practical application capabilities. Also, probably older than 25? I'll ask later. We didn't exactly ask for birthdays.

  "What circumstances led to your departure from the doctoral program?" I ask, though I suspect the answer involves either academic misconduct, legal difficulties, or both.

  His expression doesn't change, but something shifts in his posture – a subtle straightening that suggests preparation for a difficult conversation. "I became involved with certain activist organizations that took direct action against institutional injustices. Unfortunately, those activities attracted federal attention, making continued academic enrollment... inadvisable."

  The euphemistic language is careful, professional, but clearly concealing significant criminal activity. Someone operating under federal scrutiny would have strong motivations for seeking employment with organizations outside traditional oversight structures.

  "TOYOTA-THON FEATURES INCREDIBLE TRADE-IN VALUES ON ALL QUALIFYING VEHICLES. VISIT OUR SHOWROOM TODAY FOR PROFESSIONAL APPRAISAL."

  The announcement provides convenient punctuation as I consider how to probe further into his background without triggering defensive responses. Our contracts ensure honesty, but they don't guarantee complete disclosure of potentially incriminating information.

  "You've listed other aliases here as Chimera," I observe, consulting his application materials, "and mentioned participation in supervillain activities. Mind going into detail about that?"

  The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with implications about both his past activities and our expectations for candid disclosure. Elias meets my gaze directly, his expression shifting from professional courtesy to something approaching predatory assessment.

  "Right, well... Have you ever heard of the Philly Phreaks?"