“What can you bring to the table?”

The woman asking the question had a three diagonal lines tattooed down one cheek. It contrasted sharply against the paleness of her skin.

Shelley was taken aback. “Uh, I am pretty good at rollerblading and I can hold my own in a fight.”

The tattoo bulged oddly as the lady made a face and noisily spat on the ground. “See that girl over there with the braids? That’s Birdie, she was a dental assistant and she’s the closest thing to a doctor we have. Next to her is Snap. Photojournalist. Thankfully those skills make her good at reconnaisance. Sitting up there is Roark. Structural engineer. You get it?”

As befitting a gang called the Sisters of the Blade, each carried a good-sized knife in an easy to get to place. Shelley thought hard, going through a list of her skills. Who knew that getting into a gang required an effing degree? Coming up blank she fell back on the skill she had honed the most growing up. “I can cook.” she said weakly.

“You’re in!” Roark called from above.