by Jenny North
Chris's plan was simple...sidekick to the elderly hero Prodigy, encourage him to retire, then inherit the old man's hero name so he could follow his own superheroic destiny. But he never imagined he'd be fighting crime as a heroine named Prodigious Girl! Worse, when his parents mistakenly suspect that Chris might be transgender...well, nobody said that being a hero would be easy. It's a whimsical teenage superhero action comedy with twists, thrills, and fun!
Before we begin, an important note about the tone of the story. I started it as a whimsical romp, a superhero action comedy with a TG twist. But along the way it became apparent to me that at its heart it's a coming of age story, with all of the wrinkles that entails.
With that in mind, the story is rated as Mature Subjects (PG-15). Not for sex—there's no intercourse, I know some of you are disappointed—but rather because there are some very adult issues and threats that come up as our teenage hero discovers the world of the supers is a bit more like Watchmen than the clear morality of the four-color Silver Age comics he was expecting. People will die. Ideologies will clash. Boobs will be groped.
But—most importantly—it's going to have humor! Because I believe that any (*takes a deep breath*) teenage superhero action adventure coming-of-age story with gender change and crossdressing (*whew!*) deserves to be a comedy.
I hope you agree.
Enjoy!
Let me tell you something about being a teenage superhero. It's awesome. Seriously, if you have the means, I highly recommend it. And if you're one of those lucky kids born into a multi-gazillion dollar family, just order yourself some powered armor or a utility belt and you're good to go. (Plus, you don't even have to be an orphan, which I'm sure will come as a tremendous relief to your parents.)
But I won't kid you, there's a lot of crap you have to put up with.
A lot of crap.
In fact...
Hmm.
You know, it occurs to me that as I look back on my career as a superhero, I might be looking at it through lenses that, if not rose-colored, are definitely of a hue that obscures all the bruises and emotional scars. Ruby quartz, maybe?
Anyhow, on reflection, I'd like to amend my introduction just slightly.
Under no circumstances should you attempt to be a superhero. You'd have to be out of your freaking mind. And I'm not just saying that because people with metahuman powers are far more likely to turn to a life of crime than to become heroes and that I'm sick of every young punk with his daddy's power ring trying to kill me just because he wants to make a name for himself. Nor am I just saying that because my publisher has just informed me that encouraging minors into a life-threatening line of work in a printed medium might open me up to all kinds of legal liability.
No, I'm saying this because of something that my parents taught me from a very young age. Power has a price.
I can hear you scoffing, and I don't even have super-hearing. "I'd give anything to be a superhero!" you're probably saying.
Really? Anything?
See, here's the thing. To become a superhero makes you an agent of Fate's grand design. And Fate, my friend, has a wickedly perverse sense of humor.
Perhaps a tale from my own humble beginnings might illustrate my point.
I grew up in Faraday City, so named for Dr. Reginald Faraday who founded the metropolis as a shining example of his utopian vision of the future, made manifest in New Jersey because it was more amenable to altering the tax codes to suit his liking. Dr. Faraday would of course be the same asshole who later breached the dimensional boundaries from the privacy of his tax-sheltered private laboratory and set off the catastrophic chain reaction that caused physics to go bananas for hundreds of miles in every direction and thinned the veil between worlds to the point where we can now expect alien invasions on alternate Thursdays.
Dr. Faraday was quick to take credit for the creation of the supers. But not as quick as he was to absolve himself legally from any damages caused by those pesky aliens, demons, supervillains, and assorted creeping horrors now regularly visited upon us. In fact, his first and arguably most canny move was to swiftly rebrand the moment of the dimensional breach as "The Turning Point," which sounded more upbeat and tested better with focus groups than what the media had originally named "Faraday's Folly."
Welcome to the era of the superhero.
Many people ask why anyone in their right mind would live in Faraday City these days considering that it's the epicenter for any number of bizarre paranormal events, alien invasions, and giant rampaging supermonsters, to say nothing of being in Jersey. Well, there's a couple reasons for that. First, we are per capita far and away the world's number one home for superheroes, a fact that we here are quite proud of. Second, we live in a breathtaking amount of denial. It's kind of like the people in California who build their homes on dangerous precipices and blithely ignore the fact that they live in an area prone to earthquakes, mudslides, and brush fires, where everyone is basically praying that the Big One doesn't hit in their lifetime and flush everything into the Pacific Ocean, leaving Marina del Lex and Otisburg as beachfront property. (I learned that from the first Superman movie.)
So basically we risked our lives every day just for the bragging rights. We'd say, "Well, sure, my neighbors were eaten by giant mutant cicadas, but just yesterday I saw Arcturus driving around in his Astromobile. Can you say that?"
We live in interesting times.
This was the environment where I found myself spending my formative years. My parents did their best to give me a loving childhood and teach me right from wrong, to which I credit their warm and generous natures and boundless capacity for love, and not just because they were hedging their bets against the possibility that one day I might become a power-mad supervillain and hold them accountable for a troubled childhood. (When I was six I went to a birthday party for a kid with these soulless dark eyes and a crazy intensity about him and I swear it was exactly like that old Twilight Zone episode where the adults were all like, "Haha, it's good that Freddy shaved the cat!" Everyone was convinced that kid was going to grow up to be this big evil mastermind, but he ended up as a florist. You never can tell.) My parents' boundless love and acceptance would actually prove to be a rather awkward problem later, but I'm getting ahead of myself. And I bet you want to know about the powers, right?
People always ask how I got my powers—for obvious reasons—but I've noted that seldom do they want to know the price I had to pay to become a superhero. It's sort of like when you get food poisoning and everybody always wants to know where you ate so they can avoid that restaurant, but nobody ever wants to hear the details of what you went through afterward. But the truth is, the way I got my powers was actually kind of boring. I was sixteen years old and walking alone through the city park to clear my head after a particularly disastrous attempt to ask Fiona Delaney out on a date. I was dejected and wasn't really paying attention when I suddenly turned and noticed a whirling pink energy vortex open up a few feet from where I was standing.
I instantly recognized this as my Moment. Chris Patterson had just won the cosmic lottery, baby. And now I was being called upon by Fate to take up the challenge and become a paragon of justice, beloved by all. (In my defense, I was an only child so I already believed that I was special and the center of the universe.)
Faced with my call to heroic destiny, I did what any young man would do in my position. I shrieked like a scared little girl half my age and then ran away screaming as I flailed my arms madly over my head like Kermit the Frog. (In his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell describes this step in the hero's journey as "the refusal of the call.")
Now before you judge me too harshly, you have to appreciate where I grew up. I don't know where you were raised, but I'm betting that when you went to bed at night, you were read stories like "Goodnight Moon" or "The Runaway Bunny." When I went to bed at night, my parents read me the story of The Atomic Slime.
In case you haven't read it, it's a children's book inspired by the real-life story of one mister Sidney Stiles, a mild-mannered investment banker who one day while enjoying a picnic lunch with his family suddenly found himself whisked miles away by a strange beam of light. The bewildered Sidney was soon faced with a dying alien who offered him the chance to do battle against the forces of evil if only he would accept the Cosmic Bracelet.
Without hesitation, Sidney eagerly accepted this call to adventure, and the gaudy jewelry bestowed upon him powers and abilities far beyond the ken of mortal men. It also turned him into a sentient puddle of slime.
To his credit, Sidney made the best of his situation and soon oozed his way into our hearts as The Atomic Slime, dispensing two-fisted justice from his lightning-quick pseudopods, and criminals everywhere learned that the eye stalks of the law were upon them. But on the last page of the book where you saw Sidney quietly pour himself into the punch bowl that served as his bed, the very clear moral of that story was that while he was doing a lot of good for the people of the city, it was very likely that he might be happier if he'd made a different choice that fateful day.
Power has a price.
So as I think back on myself running through the empty park and bawling miserably that I didn't want to be turned into slime, I tend to think of myself as a victim of my upbringing. But aren't we all, really? Maybe if Gorgoth the Eviscerator had been hugged a little more as a child he wouldn't have the emotional problems he has today and the Statue of Liberty would still have a head. Who's to say?
Anyway, that's when I ran smack into a tree. I got knocked unconscious, and when I woke up, I had super powers.
Oh, don't give me that look. I told you it was boring.
Okay, fine. Later, I'd learn that there's this entire epic saga behind the whole thing involving aliens, the Arthurian Siege Perilous, and a broken stopwatch, but that's not important right now. For the purposes of this story: Tree. *Wham* Powers.
My publisher has asked me to clarify that I am in no way advocating running headlong into trees as an effective means of gaining superpowers, nor is it in any way a good idea in general. (Personally, I'm hoping for a slightly more intelligent class of reader. I have high hopes for you!)
My powers were nothing too spectacular in a place of miracles like Faraday City, but to my sixteen-year-old mind, they were the most amazing things I could imagine. First, I was not turned into slime. I was very happy about that. I could fly, which was incredible...I could have died happy right there. And I was a lot stronger and tougher, too. I was strong enough to easily lift a small car, and according to the testing center I visited, I was—theoretically—"largely resistant to high-caliber weapons fire," although you wouldn't believe the fine print and qualifiers they put on that statement. And after some experimenting, I also discovered that I could change my shape.
My shapeshifting power was...weird. If I concentrated I could change myself into other people, but it could take a couple of hours depending on how big the change was. However, once I locked in the new pattern I could switch back and forth between it and my regular form almost instantaneously. I felt like with practice I could get better at it, but as it was it seemed perfectly suited for crafting my heroic identity, since I could change in a blink and I wouldn't look anything like myself.
So, being something of a late bloomer and of somewhat less than heroic stature, I decided to make my heroic identity more...well, more. I made myself four inches taller with wavy blond hair to look sufficiently different from my natural dark hair and I gave myself a more muscular physique, toned and with six-pack abs, but not so imposing that I'd scare off the girls. (In retrospect it probably would have been easier if I'd made myself look like an adult, but I was still hopeful that my new status as a teenage superhero might help me score with girls my own age. Superheroes may be selfless, but I wasn't that selfless.)
I'd let my best friend Caleb in on my secret since he was a total superhero groupie and I knew that he'd be able to help me design a killer costume. So after a quick trip to the Faraday Costume Fabrication Facility ("CosFab" for short), I stood up straight and marched proudly to confront what I will always view as my single greatest nemesis (sorry, Frosty Joe, we've had good battles, but you can't hold a candle to this one): superhero registration.
* * * * *
"Powers?"
The word was only two syllables long, but the woman behind the counter managed to layer it with a jaded detachment and apathetic tedium that, combined with the merest smidgen of ennui, really managed to convey the world-weariness of the speaker. It was like poetry.
I puffed my up chest proudly. "Class 3 flight, Class 2 super strength, Class 3 invulnerability, and Class 1 shapeshifting," I proclaimed, quietly hoping for a draft of the air conditioning to billow my cape heroically even as I ignored Caleb's smirk at my smug self-importance. He was standing next to me and was ostensibly there for moral support, but really he'd just come to babe-watch the superheroines.
"Spandex is a miracle fabric," he sighed wistfully.
The bored registrar tapped away at her keyboard. "Hero or Sidekick?"
"So, yeah, I was hoping to get classified as a Hero, but I'm only sixteen—"
"Sidekick," she said flatly, typing on her computer.
"But—!"
"Minors are required to sidekick to an established super," she said in an uncompromising tone. "You'll have 90 days to sign up with a mentor. It's all explained here." She reached over to a stack of brochures and handed one of them to me. On the front was a smiling kid in an obnoxiously colorful costume with a mask, cape, and short pants. The title of the brochure proclaimed in huge bold letters, "So You've Decided to be a Sidekick!"
I sighed deeply.
"Hero name?" she asked.
I squared my shoulders. "Valor," I stated proudly. Caleb rolled his eyes.
She checked the computer. "Not available."
"What?" I said as my shoulders slumped. I'd invented a whole backstory explaining why I took that name. There was an alien princess and everything.
"Told you," Caleb said. I shot him an annoyed look, although secretly I had to admit that I was kind of glad he'd managed to talk me out of incorporating the chestplate with the big stylized "V" logo into my costume.
"Do you have another name?"
My mind raced. I had a whole list at home but I hadn't thought to bring it.
"Prysmos."
"Sorry, taken."
"Dynaman?"
"Not available."
"Cerulean..." I started.
"Nope."
"...Blue," I added.
"Still no."
Caleb jumped in. "Try 'Wind Breaker,'" he sniggered.
"I am not calling myself—"
"It's taken."
"Outstanding."
I hunkered down and over the next couple of hours unsuccessfully tried endless combinations of hero names while a bored Caleb surfed on his phone and sneaked pictures of heroines as they passed by. But as time crawled on and my frustration mounted, I came to view this jaded city employee as a guardian of the gate, placed before me as an obstacle to prevent me from achieving my destiny. She was like a winged valkyrie who fiercely guarded the gateway to glory eternal, but instead of being armed with a sword and shield, she wielded her indifference and an outdated computer. She was a canny adversary.
"I'm late for my break," she said. "Why don't you come back tomorrow?"
"Hey, what about this guy?" Caleb said as he handed me his phone. On the screen was a biography for an aged, geriatric-looking hero.
"Prodigy?" I asked. "Ugh, he's awfully old for that name."
"Also taken," the woman interjected.
Caleb, ever the player, leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. "Hey, can we see the list of who's sidekicked to him?"
She started to object but just sighed in resignation and spun the screen around.
"Look at all of them," I said, reading the registry. Prodigal, Captain Prodigy, Kid Prodigy (and Prodigy Kid), Prodigy Boy, the list went on.
"But look," Caleb said. "They've been inactive for months. And I bet some are just camping on the names."
"So?"
"So, a hero can pass his name to a successor," he said. "You cozy up to this guy and be his sidekick for real, and you could be Prodigy."
"But how—"
He peered at the list for a moment, nodded to himself, then turned to the registrar. "Try 'Prodigious Girl.'"
"WHAT?!?" I exclaimed.
"It is available," the woman said, raising her eyebrows.
Caleb pulled me close. "You can shapeshift into other people. You could do it. And that geezer won't last a month, especially once the shooting starts. And Prodigy is a really cool name."
"I don't want to be a girl!" I hissed. Then I looked over at the registrar. "No offense."
"None taken."
Caleb gave me an emphatic look. "Dude, this only works if you can convince him you're serious about being his sidekick and carrying on his legacy. He's not going to believe that if you show up as Anthem, or whatever."
"Ooh, that's a good one. That'd be—"
"Taken."
"Dammit!" I swore. "Okay, fine. So why not be—I don't know—oh! Prodigal Son! Now that's a good—"
The registrar shook her head.
"Or-or Pro...Prod..." I looked helplessly at Caleb. "I don't want to be a girl," I whined. My eyes then cut over at the registrar. "No offense."
"None taken," she sighed.
Caleb put his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. "Dude, seriously, it'll be for like three weeks, tops. Just look at this fossil, I feel like I'm getting arthritis just looking at him. He gives you his name, then you're Prodigy."
I sighed heavily. "Okay, but...even if I do have to be a girl, maybe instead I could be Pr—"
"It's taken," the registrar said preemptively.
"You don't even know what I was going to say!"
"Prodigal Daughter, right?"
I slumped over on the desk.
By this point I was completely exhausted, disheartened, and flummoxed. I looked to the registrar helplessly, just hoping for a sign, any sign. Did I mention how tired I was?
"Prodigy is a pretty good name," she admitted. "So, you want to be 'Prodigious Girl,' or what?"
Beaten, I turned back to Caleb, closed my eyes, and dropped my head in shame as I admitted my first defeat as a hero. And I hadn't even left the starting block yet.
Caleb turned to the woman. "Uh, any chance we could hold that name? We're gonna need to rework the costume."
"You've got twenty-four hours," she said as she put up a 'Next Register Please' sign. "Good luck, sweetie," she said with a wink as she walked away.
I stared blankly into space and tried to figure out what had just happened as Caleb guided me back towards the CosFab facility. "I think blonde heroines are overdone, don't you? I'm seeing you as a brunette, maybe with some high-heeled boots...how do you feel about a miniskirt?"
* * * * *
Okay. So I feel like I should pause here for a moment to address what is by far the most common question when I tell people this story. To wit: "What are you, a fucking idiot? Surely you could have found another name you could have lived with?"
So let me unpack that a little. First, that's two questions, smartass, and don't call me Shirley. (Yes, Robert Hays, I have seen Airplane.) And second, let me explain to you about the Gobots.
The Gobots were toys that were knockoff versions of the Transformers, and like their better-known cousins were also robots that could change into cars, trucks, planes, and other vehicles. They were also incredibly, indescribably, lame. Befuddled parents buying toys for their kids could hardly be blamed for mistaking the one line of toys for the other, but the crestfallen looks on their children's faces on Christmas morning no doubt quickly educated them to their mistake. Children, their eyes filled with hope and wonder at the possibility of getting the leader Optimus Prime or the lovable Bumblebee would scarcely be able to contain their disappointment upon receiving Bug Bite, the Gobot knockoff version of Bumblebee that transformed from a car into what can only be described as a canary yellow plastic abomination.
Even small children know when they're being ripped off.
Some people have asked me that if I had the superpowers and could help the city and save lives, then what did it matter what I called myself? After all, it was the work that was important, right? All the people I helped, the lives I saved?
To those well-meaning and sensible-sounding people, I would always say this: I was a teenager, and I was about to put my life on the line selflessly for the betterment of strangers who would never know my true identity. So forgive me if I didn't want to be a freaking Gobot.
So yes, on that fateful day at the registration office I could have just pounded my head against the keyboard and been the oddly Norwegian-sounding Mr. Fjkaffhksf. I could have named myself Dr. Tenderloin or Professor Semicolon and it might not have changed how many lives I was able to save. But I aspired to something greater, and at the time it felt like being saddled with a name like MegaLemur or the astonishing Night Lamp was not conducive to achieving my destiny. So while becoming Prodigious Girl was distasteful on a lot—a lot—of levels, the thought that I might soon be known as Prodigy, the square-jawed (and decidedly masculine) hero of Faraday City was a dream for which I was willing to endure some crap.
Little did I know.
Oh, and just to be clear, yes, there were plenty of good names that I might have chosen, had I but known they were available. I'd like to give a very special shout-out to Jeremy (last name withheld) of Cedar Falls, Iowa for sending me the list of all the supers who registered after I did and thoughtfully highlighting the dozens of names that were particularly cool that could have been mine. So, yeah, thanks for that. And tell me, where the hell were you that day? If you ever decide to get off your Monday morning quarterbacking butt and invent a time machine, why don't you send that list to me when it would actually do some good, like—
My publisher has reminded me to convey that in accordance with the Talosian Armistice's Temporal Accords I am in no way encouraging the creation or use of time-altering technology. And in this case, I kind of have to agree...it's unwise to flout the TATAs.
Which actually brings me back to my story...
* * * * *
Hey, you want to know a little-known fact about geeky sixteen-year-old boys?
That's a trick question, of course. There aren't any little-known facts. The stereotypes of horny, awkward, smart-mouthed know-it-alls who think they'll live forever exists for a reason, folks. And sadly, Caleb and I weren't exactly breaking the mold.
Well, I was, but my broken mold was being recast into something quite a bit curvier than I was comfortable with.
I'd actually imitated female bodies before, but it was always kind of a lark and I admit I was curious. (Don't judge me. You'd do it, too.) One weekend when I was still fooling around with my new powers Caleb came over and goaded me into changing myself into various female celebrities he liked, and I have to admit that it was actually kinda fun. At least it was until I became uncomfortable with the way he started leering at me, and I quickly called a stop to it.
And so it came to pass that soon after my fateful meeting with destiny (in the form of a bored and overworked civil servant), I found myself in a private changing room back at the CosFab facility transforming into a girl's body while Caleb used his seemingly endless knowledge of superheroine costumes to design a distinctive costume in the blue, purple, and silver motif favored by my would-be mentor. From there the automated fabrication machines would create it in no time at all, and we'd be in business.
I emerged from the changing area in my cute brunette body and tugged at my short little changing robe as I walked over to where Caleb sat at the design screen.
"Nice," he said appreciatively as he looked me over.
"I still can't believe you talked me into this," I said, still not used to the sound of my new voice. Or anything else. "So, what have you come up with?"
He smiled and moved out of the way so I could see what he'd been working on. There on the screen was a stacked brunette girl with a short cape, elbow gloves and some thigh-high boots that I maybe could have lived with apart from the platforms and stiletto heels. What gave me pause, however, was the fact that she wore nothing else apart from some scant bikini bottoms and a tiny little bustier crop top that seemed two sizes too small given her losing battle to fully close it over her fulsome breasts.
"I think the belt is cool," Caleb offered, indicating the fancy bohemian-style belt that was draped across her hips. He then turned to look at me. "So, whaddaya think?" he asked brightly.
I hardly knew where to begin. "You didn't even include a mask?" I sighed.
"Nobody's gonna be looking at your face," he assured me.
My eyes cut over at him for just a moment before I reached past him and hit the "DELETE" key.
"Aww," he pouted.
I glared at him and dragged a chair over next to the computer so I could have a slightly more involved voice in the costume's design.
After a couple hours of debates, arguing, grudging compromise, and more than a little begging on Caleb's part, I found myself modeling my new costume, and as I tugged at my short skirt I began to give serious consideration to a career in supervillainy. We'd kept the cape, boots, and gloves from his original design but incorporated more of a full-coverage leotard-style top and a simple utility belt. After some heated debate I'd agreed to the girlish miniskirt, grudgingly agreeing with Caleb's logic to go with something classic so as to avoid drawing suspicion that I wasn't really a girl.
The snug nanofabric looked a lot like spandex but was designed for the rough-and-tumble wear that supers usually subjected it to, and I plucked at it apprehensively as it clung to my feminine curves. But I did have to admit that the miniskirt looked pretty good with the thigh-high boots, even in spite of my steadfast refusal to incorporate a stiletto heel, citing practical concerns. That decision had been met with much bellyaching on Caleb's part, so we eventually compromised on a small wedge heel. But that wasn't what was driving me to consider a life of crime.
Nor was the skimpy little cape that was barely longer than the length of my skirt. I wanted something more heroic, but Caleb kept going on about aerodynamic drag and the bumblebee effect, and eventually I conceded defeat. Although I was pretty sure I saw him sneak a peek at my newly-curvy butt when the cape brushed out of the way.
No, the thing that had led me to deeply consider committing a homicide that would have doubtless set me forever on the path to villainy was a sad and entirely predictable argument regarding my new look.
"You gotta go bigger," Caleb insisted.
As you have probably guessed, he was not referring to my hair. Although my flowing jet-black locks had also been a separate and lengthy argument.
"Forget it," I said as I crossed my arms and felt them brush up against the sources of our disagreement. "They're plenty big already." When I'd constructed my new physique I'd designed the bits and pieces based on girls in our school, so I was attractive without being overly artificial. I'd patterned my bosom off of Kayla Macintyre, one of the varsity cheerleaders who was, shall we say, most generously gifted.
"Dude, you at least have to go as big as Bonita Harper," Caleb persisted. "She's...you know, heroic," he said, cupping his hands in front of his chest like he was holding a pair of cantaloupes. Big cantaloupes.
"Bonita Harper has to wear two jogging bras for gym class," I retorted. At the start of the semester she'd only worn one, which had earned her the nickname of 'Bouncy Bonita,' and even after she added the second brassiere she'd still been the cause of several minor injuries sustained by distracted guys. "I have to fight bad guys like this, remember? I can't be wobbling out of control."
Caleb gestured towards the costume fabricator. "I thought they said they had some new fabrics designed for 'today's modern full-profile superheroine.'"
"That's not the point!" I snapped. I'd based my new voice on a combination of a girl I knew from the debate team and an actress that both Caleb and I liked who had a little hint of a rasp when she talked. But until that moment I hadn't realized how whiny that combination could sound when I raised my voice like that. "I mean," I said, lowering my pitch, "I want to be taken seriously."
"You will! But, c'mon, you're still thinking of yourself as Chris Patterson. You gotta start thinking, 'I am Prodigious Girl, I am Prodigious Girl.' You gotta get inside her head."
"I have a feeling you're not envisioning my head as my most defining attribute."
"See, that's what I'm talking about! You sound like a guy who's embarrassed for people to see his big boobs."
"Gosh, I can't imagine why."
"Yeah, but you're Prodigious Girl! Ask yourself what kind of girl would give herself that name. You gotta sell it."
"I'm not listening to this."
"Okay, fine," Caleb said. "Say you go with this. You're...cute. Very girl-next-door. You swoop in, save the day, and people ask your name, and you proudly proclaim, 'I'm Prodigious Girl!' You tell me the first place their eyes are gonna go."
"I—that's not—"
He held up his hand. "And when they see what you've got there, they're gonna realize that's some false advertising. They're gonna think a girl like that is a sad little wannabe with delusions of grandeur."
"They won't think that," I mumbled as I self-consciously tugged on a long strand of hair.
"Wannabe," he repeated. "On the other hand—same scenario, but let's say you're really—"
"Swelling with grandeur?"
"Among other things. You swoop in, say, 'I'm Prodigious Girl!' and they look down. What do they think then? They're gonna think, 'Well, that figures.'"
"And that I'm an egotistical sex-crazed bimbo."
"Exactly! And nobody is gonna be looking any deeper. They're going to underestimate you, which you can use to your advantage."
I looked down at my jutting chest and grumbled, "I bet Promethean never had days like this." Then I raised my finger in warning. "One more cup size."
Caleb clasped his hands together and looked at me pleadingly.
I sighed heavily. "...and a half."
"Three quarters?"
"I hate you."
"You're just lucky you have a friend like me to help you through all this," Caleb said, turning to the costume design screen on the computer. "And I think we should revisit having that 'boob window' in your costume now that you've got something to show off," he added. Then he stopped and turned back to look at me.
"What is it now?"
"You said you did a mix and match of different girls in our school when you came up with your new look."
"Sure, so?"
"So...who'd you use as a model for....?" His eyes cut downwards.
"That is none of your business!"
"Okay, fine, but...you do have...you know?"
"Caleb!"
"I'm just saying! Like, what if you get captured by space amazons and they strip you down while you're unconscious and then dress you up in one of their skimpy silver quasi-futuristic amazon outfits? Would they, y'know, be okay with what they found?"
"You've given this a disturbing amount of thought."
"I'm only thinking of your safety!" he protested. Then he added, "It's Becky Fontaine's, isn't it?"
"I am wildly not okay with this conversation."
"Does this mean you're going to get your period?"
"Drop it!"
"Probably getting it right now," he muttered as he turned back to the computer. "Just trying to help save a guy from deadly sexy space amazons..."
"Oh, my God, I already regret this," I groaned as I looked in dismay in the mirror and started making the adjustments to my body.
"Also, I'm thinking you're probably gonna get hit pretty hard out there sometimes, and you'll probably get knocked on your ass a lot. So a little extra padding back there may not be a bad idea..."
* * * * *
I'd dreamed of this moment every day since I was little. My first day as a superhero. Standing on the edge of a rooftop as I overlooked a city in peril, a city I was there to save. I leaned forward over the edge and felt gravity's pull that was dangerous to everyone else, but not to me. As I gently willed myself into the air and took a step into nothingness and hovered above the abyss, I experienced a sensation of ultimate freedom: free of fear, free of even the bonds of gravity itself. I took a breath as the warm breeze touched my face and blew dramatically through my long hair and billowed my cape to make it look totally freaking awesome.
Then it blew my skirt up.
I slammed my knees together and frantically grabbed at my skirt as I returned to the safety of the ledge.
"I can't do this."
"Would you relax?" Caleb said. "You should see yourself. You look amazing."
"I am seeing myself. And so is everyone else below the 20th floor who's looking up my skirt! I'm going back to CosFab and getting some pants."
"Oh, quit complaining! Nobody can see anything. It's no different than what cheerleaders wear, and they get photographed on TV all the time when they do flips and stuff."
"I feel like I'm getting a wedgie," I griped as I tugged at my undies. "And this hair is way too long, it's always blowing in my face. And I think this 'boob window' in the costume is kinda tacky." I looked down at my breasts self-consciously. They weren't gigantic or anything, but on my slender teenage frame I definitely felt like I'd way overshot the mark. 'Bouncy Bonita' and I could have been sisters.
"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Caleb retorted. "Poor little baby break a nail?"
"Yeah, and speaking of those—" I started as I held up my pretty manicured nails. They were girlish but not overlong, but you've no idea how much we debated the color. To this day I still maintain that no self-respecting superheroine should wear anything in periwinkle.
"You know, it's a good thing you're a girl," Caleb observed. "Because at least now when you're whining and bitching, you look like the spoiled little princess you are. You want me to get you a tiara?"
"Hey!" I exclaimed. And that was a cheap shot about the tiara, too. I'd considered adding one since I thought it added a sophisticated air of regality but Caleb had talked me out of it. In retrospect, it had been a good decision.
"Oh, you know it's true. If you'd gotten your wish and you were up here as a guy with that name you first wanted—Valium—"
"Valor!"
"Whatever. If you'd gotten it, you'd still be up here, just as insecure, wringing your little cape in your hands—"
I dropped the edge of my cape that I'd been wringing in my hands. (Hey, you try wearing a skintight outfit that doesn't have any pockets and see what you do with your hands.)
"—and you'd still be whining about how scared you are. Some superhero."
"That's not fair!" I cried as my new voice climbed into an unexplored register. Wow, I really did sound whiny.
"Why do you even want to be a superhero, anyway? So you got powers. You don't have to be a hero because of that. And so help me, if you try to sell me that 'with great power comes great responsibility' bullcrap, I'm gonna tell your parents what you've been up to all week."
"Hey, I just want to help people!" I insisted.
"So be a fireman. Or a cop."
"But just look at me! I can fly!" I said as I looped around him. "And I can lift a car! And I'm bulletproof! Mostly. Hopefully." I stopped for a moment. "Also, I'm kinda thinking I might be developing pyrokinesis or something. I've been getting these weird headaches, and I think I may have fried our TiVo."
"Wow," Caleb said, impressed. "Maybe you can be a waitress in a diner and use it to make toast and heat up the customers' coffee."
"Shut up! You don't get it!" I cried. Then, faced with his skeptical expression, I added, "Look. I know everyone sees guys like Promethean or Superion and think they're just these corny, self-righteous vigilantes, and maybe that's true. But I have always wanted to be like them. You know, out there, saving lives and fighting the big fights that nobody else can. And...I want to be...more."
"More?"
I fluttered my hands girlishly. "All this, this is incredible, right? But I really feel like I could do anything, y'know? It's like I can feel that this is only the beginning, that I'm just bursting with untapped potential. I don't want to play it safe, I want to push myself and find out what I can really do. And when I think about all the people I can help along the way, I just feel like I have this unbelievable focus. Like this is my passion, my dream, my destiny. Have you ever felt like that?"
"Never."
"I know, right?" I said excitedly. "Me neither! But ever since this happened, that's how I feel. I just know this is what I'm supposed to be doing."
"Wow," he said. "That sounds amazing."
"It is. It really is," I said breathlessly.
"Bummer you won't be able to do it because you don't want people to see you in a skirt."
I turned to look at him. "That's not—I mean, that isn't the—" I glanced down at myself, then back at him. Slowly, I gave him a wry little smile. "You're such an asshole," I said as I pursed my lips, feeling rather foolish that I was actually considering giving up on my lifelong dream just because I was feeling a little embarrassed. "But...thanks."
He eyed me warily. "You're not gonna hug me or anything, are you?"
In truth, I'd been fighting the strangest impulse to do just that. When I'd duplicated all those girls it hadn't occurred to me that I might have also duplicated their raging teenage hormones, too. That gave me a moment's pause.
"What? No...no..." I said as I nervously twirled a lock of hair.
"Okay, get out of here. Go save the world, or whatever."
I broke into an excited little grin and leaped off the edge of the building, enjoying the thrill of the rapid descent before I launched myself into a graceful upward arc. I spiraled around to give Caleb a friendly wave goodbye and he shook his head reprovingly at my goofy smile. Chagrined, I affected a more serious demeanor and gave him a little salute and flew off. But within seconds, I was back to grinning like an idiot.
I was a superhero!
* * * * *
As I flew along with the city spread out below and around me I practically trembled with excitement and I desperately wanted to go do something heroic like stop an armored car heist or save people from a burning building. But there was one important stop I had to make first.
I soared past one of the towering skyscrapers of the city and reflexively did a little double-take as I saw my reflection in the glass, still not used to the fact that the curvy brunette in the costume and cape was really me. I still felt incredibly awkward about this whole impersonation and I smiled a little as the girl in the reflection looked coyly back at me. But as I swooped around the edge of the building, I saw my destination.
The Spire.
The gleaming silver-white monument was nearly as tall as the surrounding skyscrapers and from afar resembled a slender needle that from the ground seemed to be stretching skyward towards some distant new frontier. I'd never seen it from this angle before, and it surprised me how different it looked from up here. It had been erected as a memorial to all those who'd lost their lives during the Turning Point, but also to provide inspiration to the city and serve as a reminder that while our roots were strong, our reach would always be to the future.
It was something of an urban legend that new heroes would visit the top of the Spire when they started their careers because there was supposedly a message left there by Promethean or one of the other heroes. I had no idea if it was true or not, but I wanted to see for myself.
I flew up to the edge of the monument and followed it upwards to the very top to find that there was a small ledge that surrounded it, barely wide enough to stand on. I alighted on the ledge and paused to look back at the amazing vista of the city laid out before me. I took a deep breath and took it all in. I was now a protector of the city. My city. A city in—
"Hi."
"AAH!" I screamed as I jumped back in surprise and lost my footing.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" a female voice cried out in a panic.
I hovered and turned around to find the source of the voice and saw a girl about my age with long platinum blonde hair standing on the thin ledge. She wore a silky black tunic top covered with sparkly magic runes over dark red tights, and her hair and cape blew in the breeze. She was really cute, and I felt totally flustered.
"Um, hi," I responded.
"Oh, you can fly," she sighed in relief. "Gods, you gave me a fright. For a second there I thought I'd killed someone my first day out." I noticed that she had an English accent and it only served to fluster me more, like she was all posh and fancy or something and I was just a dork in a miniskirt. "Didn't mean to startle you there, if you'd prefer some privacy—"
"No!" I said, a little too loudly. "I—I mean, it's cool." I floated back to the Spire and landed back on the little ledge next to her.
She pointed at the monument with her thumb. "There's no message, I looked," she said. "Well, that's not true. It looks like some cretin scrawled 'Flash Your Tits' on the other side, but I'm pretty sure that's just graffiti."
"Oh," I said, disappointed. I'd really been looking forward to some secret words of superhero wisdom. "Another dream shattered. Still a nice view, though."
"Lovely," she agreed, giving me a sidelong glance.
I cleared my throat uncertainly. "So, did you fly up here, too?"
She shook her head. "Teleporter," she explained. A glittering energy portal rose up from her feet and she vanished and reappeared behind me. As she emerged I noticed a fluttering magical spark appear from behind her, twirl around her head and then down around her body.
"Is that—?"
She waved her hand dismissively. "It's a stupid magical aura thing when I teleport. It's cool for about five minutes and then it's annoying as hell. I can't wait until I can get it removed."
"No, you shouldn't. I mean, it looks good. You know, on you. It's...sparkly."
My ability to smooth talk the ladies was legendary.
She smiled. "I saw you down at registration earlier. Are you new, too?"
I nodded.
"What a pain, right? It took me like five minutes of trying to get a name I liked," she said. "But I got Enchantrix. I think that's pretty cool, don't you?"
"Um...yeah. Yeah, that's actually really good," I admitted. "And that was available?"
"Oh, sure. Everyone bitches about how hard it is to get a good name, but you just need to be a little bit creative," she said. "I swear, everybody just tosses a 'Doctor' at the beginning or 'Lord' at the end. It's so unimaginative. The two guys in front of me ended up with 'Captain Paradox' and 'Adventure Man.' How boring, right?" She shook her head. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't ask. What name did you choose?"
"I'm..." Oh, here we go, I thought. I squared my shoulders and took in a deep breath to calm my nerves. I actually did that a lot in those early days, embarrassed as I was. It wasn't until later that I saw a video of myself being interviewed by a reporter and I realized that it looked like I was puffing up my chest and preening for attention. "I'm Prodigious Girl," I said as confidently as I could.
"Oh!" she said as her eyes fluttered down at my chest for the briefest of instants. I wondered if I would get used to that. I knew that it wouldn't be anytime soon. "Wow, that's so unique!"
"It's dumb."
"No!" she insisted. "I didn't mean to sound like that. It's fun! Everybody is always all so moody and serious and darkity-dark-dark, it's kinda nice to meet someone who's a little playful about all this." She sized me up in my outfit and it made me feel a little uncomfortable. "I like it," she decided. "It suits you."
"Thanks," I said, blushing.
She turned back to admire the view of the city. "So, here we are, gifted with amazing powers beyond the understanding of mortal man and the first thing we did was to climb to the top of the world's biggest phallic symbol to read some horny loser's graffiti," she marveled. "Say, you want to go beat up some muggers?"
Gang activity in the city was shockingly high considering that it seemed like everybody and their pet chinchilla seemed to have superpowers these days. Though partially that was also due to the fact that many of the street gangs had figured out how to infuse themselves with low-grade powers and fancied themselves as players as they terrorized helpless citizens.
And I'm actually not joking about the chinchillas. When an interdimensional portal opened over a Petco, it unleashed a strange radiation that...well, let's just say that the League of Chinchillas was born that day. Wonder Chinchilla, The Blazing Chinchilla, Chinchilla Lass...Okay, granted they weren't the most original names, but c'mon, they were just chinchillas.
Still, they'd apparently managed to choose more creative names than all the ones I'd come up with. I was still kicking myself that "Captain Paradox" had been available and instead I was flying around with half the city looking up my skirt. But Enchantrix helped take my mind off all that. We talked for a while as we went on patrol and I took to calling her Trixie, which at first she didn't seem to like very much, but she warmed to it when I waggled my fingers in a magical way, explaining, "You know, because you're tricksy."
"You are so strange," she said with a grin.
We searched around for trouble and finally settled on a rooftop overseeing an area of the city that was known for its gang activity. While we watched and waited we traded origin stories, but since mine went quickly (there are only so many ways you can spice up "I ran into a tree") we mostly talked about Trixie's background. Her accent threw me since many metahumans were from Faraday City or nearby, where the Turning Point occurred. She explained that she was actually from the London of a parallel Earth where magic was more prevalent than technology, and that she came here with her father through a dimensional breach.
Excited at the possibility of other Earths, I spent several minutes quizzing her on the differences between our realities.
"Do you have Star Wars?" I asked.
She laughed. "Yes, but we don't have the prequels."
"Really," I said, fascinated.
"And we don't have those little teddy bears, either."
"Ewoks," I informed her. "Wow, you guys are so lucky! I—" I paused as I saw an amused twinkle in her eye. "You're completely messing with me, aren't you?"
"From the beginning," she giggled. "Gods, you're so trusting. I—"
I saw the change on her face. "What is it?"
"I think we might be needed," she said, looking down at the street as I heard the cry for help.
Since we were categorized as Sidekicks we were prohibited from directly engaging with any supers above a Class II power level, but that was still more than sufficient for us to clean the streets of some of the gangland lowlifes that terrorized the citizenry in some of the sketchier parts of the city. From our vantage point atop the building, Trixie and I could see a bunch of Hemlocks who were hassling a young couple with a little girl. These guys were thuggy low-powered goons who had dabbled with black magic but weren't good enough for the big leagues.
We landed near the altercation and I announced our presence dramatically.
"Halt, evildoers! You now answer to Prodigious Girl and Enchantrix!"
Okay, so it was corny. Sue me, it was my first time. Later, Caleb would inform me that while most of the rank-and-file thugs didn't care what our names were, the real goal was to get caught on camera by one of the HeroVerse television drones, or if you could score it, an in-person interview. They actually had a bunch of cub reporters running around for that exact reason just in case the newbie hero they were interviewing someday became the next Promethean or Captain Supreme. At first the reporters got hassled or mugged by the gangs, but once it became obvious that the reporters were hero bait, the smart gangs wisely tended to steer clear of them.
These guys had obviously encountered supers before and looked like they knew how to handle themselves in a fight, so I prepared myself for anything.
Although I have to say, I wasn't entirely prepared for the laughter.
"Hey, hey, the entertainment has arrived!" one of them cackled as he ogled my breasts in a way that made me feel unclean. "Look at you girls, all hot and horny in your sexy little outfits! You want me to help you stretch some of that spandex, hot stuff?"
I stared at him blankly. In preparing for my superhero career, I'd actually thought up a few go-to quips and snappy rejoinders, but it hadn't occurred to me to prepare any witty comebacks for a guy giving me a lewd sexual come-on. (I've since developed a voluminous repertoire of droll and clever bon mots to retort to such statements, which my publisher suggests may be saleable as its own novel.)
As a few thugs gathered around me I noticed that the young family they'd been hassling had started to discreetly edge their way to seek cover, even as their little girl looked at me wide-eyed. It hadn't hit me until that moment, but was I now a role model for young girls? I was only sixteen, so the thought that I could be a role model for anybody was an alien concept, much less girls. As she watched me I started to feel incredibly self-conscious.
Meanwhile, the gang members began to move even closer, emboldened by my timidity. One of them unholstered his gun and pointed it at me. I'd never had a gun pointed at me before, and I froze as I wondered just how bulletproof I actually was. Would it hurt? Could I get killed? I flinched as he brandished the gun in front of me and I felt my heart race and my shoulders tighten.
"Damn, girl, what they feedin' you?" one guy said, looking me up and down.
"Looks like melons to me!" another guy laughed.
"I like your costume," another said as he came right up to me. "I'd like it better off, though," he added as he plucked at my cape. I swatted his hand away and the guys all laughed again.
As the catcalls continued, I heard Trixie clear her throat nervously and my eyes cut over to see two other guys slowly closing in around her as she gave me a very insistent look. I glanced around nervously and suddenly wondered what the hell I'd been thinking. These guys were adults, and rough customers from the look of them, and I was just a teenager half their size. And a girl teenager at that, running around in a skimpy and clingy outfit that looked better suited to twirling around in an aerobics or dance class. As the guys loomed closer I shuddered to think what they'd do to me if they made good on their lewd come-ons. The idea of being molested or raped, once abstract and impersonal, now felt like a very real threat.
As though on cue, one of the guys grabbed my left breast in his big meaty paw and I cringed as he gave it a rough squeeze. "Mmm...more than a handful ain't a waste, after all," he said as the others laughed loudly.
I made eye contact with the little girl again who was huddled with her parents against a dumpster and trapped in the dead-end alleyway. I almost cried as I felt the creep squeeze my breast, and I recoiled from this invasion of my body and the stench of alcohol and cigarettes on his breath.
That's when I heard the cry.
"Prodigious Girl!"
It was Trixie. The two guys had moved in on her aggressively and grabbed her arms, obviously foiling her attempt to cast a spell. They began to force themselves on her and covered her mouth, muffling her cries.
And that's when I snapped.
I actually don't have a clear memory of what happened next, but I remember that the guy with his hand on my breast got the first punch and that he'd probably need help feeding himself for a while. But my main concern was for Trixie and I launched myself at her attackers with abandon, buying her a chance to cast her spells even as the gang members started attacking me and the shooting started. Getting shot hurt more than I thought it would, but at the time I didn't care. I wasn't thinking of myself anymore and I wasn't worried about what I looked like or what anyone thought of me. It was actually kind of liberating.
In retrospect it was probably just as well that I didn't have time to think about my actions because otherwise I might have realized that I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. This was, after all, only the second time in my life that I'd ever even been in a fight. The first time had been a few years before when I'd gotten beat up by a bully and...well, let's just say I didn't acquit myself very well in the annals of crimefighting that day. I was so flustered at the time that I hadn't even thought to drop the school books that I was carrying, so I was literally fighting him one-handed. It was over before it started.
I guess intellectually I'd known that I'd get into fights as a superhero, but my problem was Hollywood. The big superhero fights on the news were usually big and flashy like a movie, and while I realized I was fighting at a much lower level, I guess I had it in my head that it would be like those procedural cop shows where the punk gets slammed against the wall and then meekly allows himself to be handcuffed while he smart-mouths the detective. But it turns out that real criminals weren't like that. Surprise!
No, in addition to the limited metahuman and magical attacks they hit us with and the small-caliber arms fire (which stung!) there was all sorts of dirty fighting. Hair-pulling, biting...one guy with low-level super-strength even kicked me in the groin. And I'm here to tell you, when a guy with super-strength kicks you in the privates, it's an unpleasant experience no matter what your gender happens to be.
I think the thing that hadn't really sunk in until that moment was that those guys really, truly, deeply did not want to go to jail. Now, maybe to you that seems obvious, but I think all those cartoons, movies, and TV shows led me to believe that once it was obvious they were outmatched, they would simply quietly surrender as we grudgingly acknowledged each other as worthy adversaries. Instead of, say, spitting in my eye and using the distraction to punch me in the boob. (Which, again, ouch.)
Which led me to my second revelation. As much as those guys didn't want to go to jail, based on the number of times that they used the word "bitch," I gathered they felt equally strongly about getting beat up by a couple of teenage girls. (Although some of them seemed more than willing to wrestle me. Ew.)
This then became my introduction to the rampant gender inequality of the mid-fight insult. I mean, here I was fighting these gang members who could summon up razor-edged tanglevines, and I'm making weed whacker jokes—which if you think about it is actually a pretty good double entendre considering the lewd comments they'd been laying on me—but then it was their turn and they'd snarl, "You're not taking me in...bitch!" It was like putting that dramatic pause in there suddenly made it clever or something. Seriously, this happens all the time in superhero fights. It's like a gal shows up and then "bitch" becomes the only insult they know, like it's a catch-all for their Neanderthal opinions of women. After a while I felt like I should carry around flash cards with alternate suggestions to hand out to guys before a fight broke out. ("Okay, guys, now remember: 'Fucker,' 'douchebag,' and 'sack of shit' are all great examples of gender-neutral insults. Now I see that there's more than four of you, so I think it's okay if one of you gets in a 'cunt' expletive if you feel you must. But please try to save it for a special moment and don't just abuse the privilege. Remember, we're all professionals here.")
By the time the dust settled the area was littered with the tanglevines and scorch marks from the Hemlock gang's magical attacks and Trixie's spells, and I came to my senses in time to see Trixie radio in for a police drone pickup. Meanwhile, the young family crept out of their hiding place and looked around the area—and at me—apprehensively.
"It's okay," I told them. "You're safe. Nobody is going to hurt you."
Given the violence they'd just witnessed the parents didn't seem very convinced of that and they eyed me suspiciously. But the little girl wriggled her way out of their grasp and before they could stop her, she ran over and threw her arms around me.
"Hey!" I said, choking out a little laugh as she hugged me. "It's okay. You're welcome," I told her. "What's your name, honey?"
"It's Lucy."
It's funny that even after all these years I still remember her name and her face so clearly with her elfin little smile. I don't know that I ever even told her my name, but all of a sudden my worries about getting media attention and having people know who I was didn't seem to matter all that much. All that mattered was that she was safe.
After the cops arrived and we dealt with the cleanup, Trixie and I headed off. However, I seemed to catch her off guard when I veered towards Astral Bridge, a high metal structure that was named for the hero who'd died protecting people during the Manichean invasion many years before. I landed on the superstructure underneath and Trixie teleported next to me as I sat down despondently on one of the girders. My long hair fell around my face and for once it suited me just fine since I didn't want to have to face her.
"Trixie—I mean, Enchantrix—I, I—"
"Don't."
"I almost got us killed. Or...worse," I said, still thinking about the two guys who forced themselves on her while the other guy groped my chest. "I'm sorry. You'd be better off finding someone else to team up with. This was all just a huge mist—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence."
"But—!"
"No. So you froze up, big deal. I froze up, too! It was stupid of me to get that close to them. Live and learn, right? We'll know better next time."
"I guess."
"Gods, you are such a disappointment," she said, and I looked at her, wounded. "I team up with someone named 'Prodigious Girl' hoping to avoid one of those grim and humorless 'defender of justice' wankers and she turns out to be all glum and mopey."
My lip twitched in the beginnings of a smile. "I'm not mopey."
"You are! You're sullen and depressing. I don't think you and I can be friends."
"Oh, yeah? Well, I...um...I..." I paused. "Wow, I really need to work on my comebacks."
"We'll practice quipping on the next batch," she said. She leaned over to peek around my hair that was obscuring my face. "That little girl was cute, right?"
"Yeah, she was," I agreed. Absently I wondered if she would have been that quick to give me a hug if I'd been a male hero. I supposed being huggable wasn't such a bad super power.
"She looked like a little troublemaker to me," Trixie said as I straightened up and brushed my hair back from my face. "I bet she's already getting mugged again. You want to go check?"
"Prodigious Girl to the rescue," I said, giving her a little fist bump. She portaled away back towards the neighborhood and I hurried to follow after her. "Hey, wait up!"
* * * * *
Being a hero had some perks—including complimentary line-jumping in most restaurants and coffee shops—but being registered as a hero also came with some nifty tech. First was the IntelliComm device (I-Comm for short), which was kind of like a limited-use smartphone that let you communicate over a secure network. It was useful for knowing if there were any hot spots in the area that needed heroes, but it was especially handy after having collared a bad guy to radio for a police drone pickup to haul the perpetrators away.
The second thing was what was commonly referred to as the "warp locker." It was invented (some say discovered) by Dr. Faraday, who often poked around in other dimensions by use of a trial-and-error process that managed to piss off more than a few neighboring worlds who had a tendency to drop by and vent their ire. However, on one of his fishing expeditions he came across a vacant "warp space" that didn't adhere to standard conventions for geography. This had the convenient side effect of being able to create private warp space compartments that could be opened by the I-Comm with a specialized vibrational frequency. So, I could punch in my code and I could get access to my own private "pocket dimension" storage wherever I happened to be. The default space wasn't very big—my school locker was more spacious—but it was all I needed. You could pay to upgrade to a bigger space, but it cost big bucks...I once heard of a gadget-based hero who had something more like a big living room to hold all his junk, but that guy must have been loaded.
As it was, I mostly just used the space to hold my backpack or a change of clothes for when I needed to swap into my heroic identity, but the main thing I kept in there was my CosFit device.
If you think about superheroes as they're portrayed in the comic books, you'll notice there's a lot of hand-waving about the costumes. Sure, Superman or Flash could change in the blink of an eye, but it still sidesteps the question where they're hiding their civilian clothes in their form-fitting tights. (It also doesn't dwell on the fact that even if they're moving too fast for us to see, from their perspective they're stripping down to their skivvies right in front of anybody just standing there. Freaking exhibitionists.) And then you have people like Batman with body armor that would take an hour to put on, assuming he had Alfred there to help him. By the time he'd finished putting on his cape Commissioner Gordon would be calling back on the Bat Phone to tell him not to bother.
The CosFit device was another bit of wonder tech from the folks at Faraday Labs to help address all that. After settling on a costume design at the CosFab facility, the pattern was encoded and loaded onto one of these small devices, about the size of a large cell phone. You'd push the button and a swarm of nanobots would emerge that would "unweave" the fabric of your civilian clothes and break it down into a new data pattern, and then simultaneously it'd "weave" your hero costume in place onto your body. The whole process took about a minute so it wasn't quite as cinematic as spinning around and changing in a flash of light, but it beat the living daylights out of pulling on your costume a piece at a time. (Although it feels absolutely bizarre, like a bunch of insects are crawling across every inch of skin. They told me you get used to it, but it still gives me the willies.)
One neat side effect of this design was that the costumes were extremely durable and also self-cleaning and self-repairing. This was especially helpful for people like myself who had no idea how to sew. It also neatly avoided the problem of a potentially awkward conversation with my mom were she to happen across my costume in the washing machine.
That clever little device is also why the less savory-minded shutterbugs out there find it so difficult to catch nudie shots of a hero or heroine in a fight. You know what I mean...you'll see on TV as some invulnerable heroine throws herself on some bomb or something, it goes off and then when the smoke clears her costume is in tatters but still manages to cover all of the interesting parts. That's because the nanobots make those areas a priority for self-repair. The rest of the costume may take a while to grow back, but modesty will be preserved.
Oh, and for you more sneaky-minded readers, yes, the CosFit devices and nanobots are heavily encrypted. It wasn't always so, but apparently not long after they were first introduced some whimsical hackers got their hands on Darkmancer's CosFit device and reprogrammed it to change his outfit after thirty minutes, which unfortunately happened to coincide with his television interview after defeating Power Piranha. He was less than amused when his costume changed into an exact replica of Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz and was even less entertained when he discovered that the pranksters had fried his CosFit device in doing so, leaving him trapped in an elaborate pink ball gown that constantly regenerated as he tried to tear it off his body. By the time they finally got it off of him, his reputation as a dark and serious crimefighter had taken a beating.
* * * * *
Trixie and I got to be a regular duo and we started to team up with some other young heroes at first, but it was kind of hit and miss on quality. Not everyone had what it took to go the distance, so these early fights were sort of a crucible designed to separate the women from the boys. (Admittedly that was from my own unique perspective.) Though in retrospect some of their names should have helped clue us in.
I'll start by saying that I'm well aware that any guy who chooses to call himself Prodigious Girl has no business mocking the names of other superheroes. Fair enough. But we definitely saw a pattern where the ones with more clever names tended to be a bit more capable and quicker to think on their feet. So while General Badass Awesomesauce proved to be somewhat less impressive than his name might suggest, guys like the crystalline-armored Kaleidostone rocked, both literally and figuratively. And some folks were a mixed bag...our team-ups alongside Phyrric Victory were often wins, but hoo boy were they ugly.
However, I had another problem. While the Faraday City hero registration process allowed me to sign up as a Sidekick without my mentor's prior approval, I was only probationary for a period of 90 days during which time I was specifically prohibited from knowingly engaging with any opponents over a certain threat level. It was a compromise solution adopted by the city government when they realized that: A) they couldn't stop us; and B) it allowed the younger heroes to build up some experience and help deal with the rampant rise in superpowered gang activity that was threatening to overrun the city. The more established heroes were busy dealing with the big world-dominating threats and the local police were outgunned, so this grace period allowed us to cut our teeth and do the city a favor in the process.
Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I'd failed to make contact with Prodigy. I knew that if I couldn't find him soon I'd officially be considered an unsanctioned vigilante, only a half-step better than the criminals we were trying to apprehend. Trixie offered to put in a good word for me with her mentor—a former heroine named Demetria who had taken to training young supers—but I begged off. After all, the whole point of this escapade was to ingratiate myself to Prodigy so he'd bequeath me his name. And after two and a half months of taking to the streets as Prodigious Girl, I was more than ready to slip into an identity that didn't provoke all the disapproving looks and comments regarding my appearance, to say nothing of the lecherous come-ons.
But in the meantime, I found myself keeping fairly regular company with some other young as-yet "undeclared" heroes...
I clearly remember getting hit in the face with a truck. (You always remember your first time.)
The bumper sticker on the back of the truck proclaimed Faraday City to be a "City of Dreams." I recall it vividly because I was standing in the middle of the street ass-deep in razor tentacles and fighting a losing battle against a pack of ravenous hellwolves that didn't seem keen to give me a moment to pick bits of said bumper sticker out of my teeth. It was at that moment that I was starting to suspect that perhaps this time we'd bitten off more than we can chew. In my case, literally.
I launched the remains of the pickup at the nearest wolf and tried to find the Animancer that was controlling the beasts from amid the chaos. Fortunately, unlike their pets their masters weren't able to take quite as much of a pounding, but they knew better than to engage us directly if they could avoid it. I tore my way out of the razor tentacles and winced as they sliced painfully into the flesh of my thigh, leaving me once again to question the sliding scale of my so-called invulnerability.
"Where the hell is Blaze? This was his idea!" I yelled as I smashed two of the hellwolves against each other.
"Didn't we have a plan for this?" Trixie shouted back as she blasted one of the Animancers into unconsciousness, which caused his demon-spawned creatures to disappear. We'd also discovered that she could use her portals to close the breaches that the Animancers opened to summon their creatures, but that had only served to single her out for their attention and they still managed to open them faster than she could close them. In the meantime she found herself madly teleporting around the space to avoid the incoming fire even as she created her own mystic portals to redirect our foes' elemental attacks.
"Are you saying that 'Get 'em' isn't a plan?" Triggerhappy joked. Then, he yelled, "'Trix, incoming!" as he fired his energy rifle into a flock of bladewings that was swooping down on Trixie. The ones that survived swerved to attack him instead, so TH threw down a repulsor grenade that knocked his opponents back twenty feet and established a perimeter of sorts where he could take better advantage of his arsenal of weapons and gadgetry. As usual, Bhramari was close by his side, taking cover. Mari could control and communicate with insects, which was ideal for scouting and surveillance, but in a straight-up fracas like this unfortunately wasn't especially useful.
The guys on the team had initially teased us for coming up with cute little nicknames for each other, but they quickly came to realize that it had a more pragmatic reason: it was easier to yell out short names during combat. Many of us had learned—painfully—that an unfortunate side effect of that damnable superhero registration system was that not only were most of the cool names taken already, but the ones that remained tended to be more obscure, complex, and/or difficult to say. So, while "Doctor Archaeopteryx" might have a certain pleasing rhythmic syncopation to it, imagine having to yell out his name in the middle of a combat to warn him that a steel girder was about to take his head off. He'd be dead three syllables before you finished.
Through the mess of bodies and hellbeasts I spotted another one of the Animancers and flew at him full-speed to take him out before he could summon any more beasties. Unfortunately he was quick and agile and seemed ready to avoid my attack when he suddenly stopped and swatted at some unseen insect that had painfully stung him. It proved to be a tactical blunder on his part as I plowed into him with enough force to knock back a car, and he slammed against the wall and slumped to the ground, unconscious. I paused just long enough to give Mari a thumbs-up for the distraction.
I turned just in time to see another two new portals open that ushered in a swarm of flying demonbats that were flanked by three hulking creatures I'd never seen before. They looked like a cross between a gorilla and a rhinoceros, and they all seemed particularly ill-tempered.
"Fall back!" I yelled, figuring we could regroup down the block where we might have room to—
"SUPERNOVA STRIKE!"
We'd heard that warning before, and from painful experience I knew we had at most a second or two to react. Triggerhappy threw down one of his precious force bubble projectors to protect him and Bhramari, and Trixie dove into one of her portals for parts unknown. I, knowing full well how this usually went, just closed my eyes and waited for the pain.
I didn't have long to wait. A second later from overhead there was the familiar sound of Quasarblaze's rocket pack, quickly followed by the high-pitched whine that preceded the release of hundreds of energy flechettes all across the street. We'd done this maneuver enough times in the past that my flinch at hearing that noise was practically a conditioned response.
"AAAAHHH!!" I screamed as the sharp edges sliced through the protective fabric of my costume and lacerated the skin beneath. None of the energy blades were strong enough to do any real damage, but the experience of receiving dozens of simultaneous paper cuts was still wildly unpleasant.
When the storm of energy knives finally abated, the only sound was the hum of Triggerhappy's protective force shield and the fading turbines of Quasarblaze's jet pack as he landed. On the ground were a half-dozen Animancers, all incapacitated or unconscious. And without any conscious masters to bind them to this dimension, the hellbeasts had all disappeared. It was an effective maneuver, if not a particularly pleasant one.
Quasarblaze, predictably, was the first to pat himself on the back.
"Fuckin' A! I got six?!? I am the freaking takedown master!" he proclaimed. Blaze fancied himself the leader of our little team and frequently pointed how out it made sense because "QB" was an obvious nickname for him. The rest of us rejected both the notion and the nickname.
Most of us.
"Nice one, QB!" Triggerhappy enthused. "You da man!"
"They're not all yours, Blaze," I told him. "I'd taken out one. Oh, and by the way, OW."
"Oh, did you get some soft tissue damage? I'd be happy to massage them."
"In your dreams," I shot back as the self-repair functions of my costume started to knit together the worst of the slices. I'd also discovered that my shapeshifting ability afforded me some measure of rapid healing, and as I concentrated on maintaining my body as Prodigious Girl it cleaned up many of the surface cuts. Deep tissue bruising and lacerations took longer to heal, but at least it prevented me having to explain a bunch of obvious cuts and bruises at the breakfast table the next morning.
"Two of them were mine," TH added when the protective field went down. He and Mari stood up just as Trixie portaled back in, and as she did so, Mari signed a message to her.
"Boy, you said it, Mari," Trixie said. "Talk about juvenile."
"Which is clearly the opinion of someone in last place," Blaze said. Then he looked at Mari. "Oh, excuse me, second-to-last. Bug girl is never good for any takedowns."
Bhramari made an annoyed face and looked back to Trixie and the two of them signed something back and forth. After teaming up with Mari I'd taken it upon myself to learn a little ASL, but I only caught the gist of their conversation. It was...salty.
Blaze watched them go back and forth and turned to Mari. "Hey, some of us don't understand finger twaddle!" he shouted as he waggled his fingers in a mocking impression.
Mari flipped him the bird.
"Would you like me to translate that for you?" Trixie offered pleasantly.
"Yeah, and where the heck were you, anyway, Blaze?" I jumped in. "You wandered off just when the shooting started."
"I took out a couple of guys who were on patrol back there!" he said defensively. "It's a good thing I spotted them or they could have flanked us."
Trixie folded her arms. "Uh huh," she said, obviously unconvinced. "And when we call this in, should we tell them to bring extra power manacles for this phantom patrol?"
"I ran them off."
"I bet."
"Hey, if QB says he did it, then that's what happened!" Triggerhappy contended.
Mari signed something and Trixie sniffed in agreement.
"What was that?" TH said defensively.
"She was just wondering if you ever had an original thought that Blaze didn't have first."
As the group fell to arguing, I shouted, "Knock it off!" It was barely enough to get their attention, but it did the trick.
"Look, let's just call this in for a pickup, and we can sort it out later, okay?" I suggested. The irony wasn't lost on me that I was usually the deciding vote in our disagreements that frequently seemed to break along gender lines. Blaze and TH ogled me and treated me like a bimbo, and the girls seldom liked that I tended to side more with the guys when it came to risk-taking. We were an okay team, but I was practically counting the hours until I could take Prodigy's name, reboot myself as a male hero and go my own way.
"This is bullshit, anyway, taking out this gutter trash." Blaze said. "No way this rates so much as a news drone, much less actual press coverage. Unlike you losers, I've got a fan base that expects to see some action." Blaze had made a point of repeatedly reminding us how he had painstakingly established a 'significant' social media presence that pulled in groupies. He was only into the superhero scene to make a name for himself as a reality TV star to then parlay into multimedia stardom.
"Big deal, you have a blog," Trixie said.
"It's a war journal," he declared. "And I am connected, honey. I know lots of supers. And more importantly, they know me."
Mari looked unimpressed and signed something to Trixie, who just snorted.
"It's true!" TH jumped in. "Blaze does know lots of supers. And not many of 'em heroes, if you know what I mean."
"Shut up!" Blaze said as he smacked him on the arm. The muscle enhancement in his exo-armor was still engaged, and he hit Triggerhappy hard enough to break bone. Fortunately, however, TH's armored costume protected him from the worst of it, and he just shot Blaze a dirty glance.
I looked at Blaze in disgust. "You're hanging out with villains?"
"Well, excuse me, Miss Goody Two Boobs. Besides, my viewers are getting tired of the footage of Sabrina the teenage witch and the bug lady here."
"Jerkoff," Trixie snapped while Mari made a sudden and emphatic gesture I wasn't familiar with. I had a feeling it wouldn't be in my ASL book.
"Hey, it's not their fault they're not as stacked as PG," Triggerhappy said as he motioned to me. Or parts of me. "Seriously, you should see some of the comments you get in the videos."
"Wow. That's really flattering."
"Okay, we gotta blaze," Blaze said, trying out his new catchphrase. "You know how to call this in, don't ya, girls? I need to lock in a big score, and I've got a great one lined up." With that, he grabbed TH and they flew off.
I shook my head and turned to face the accusing glances of the two girls.
"What?"
"Way to stick up for us, Peej," Trixie said. I opened my mouth to respond when Mari signed another message. I didn't get all of it, but the concept of disappointment came through pretty clearly.
"Look, I know they're kinda jerks, but at least they know how to handle themselves in a fight." Then, faced with their shocked expressions, I hurriedly added, "Wait, I didn't mean that like it sounded—"
"I think we got it just fine," Trixie said. "We gotta go, anyway. But you know how to call this in, don'cha, girl?" she mocked.
Before I could say anything she created a portal and the two of them vanished.
The best part about being a hero? You get to meet such interesting people.
The next day after the big fight with the Animancers I arrived home just in time for dinner. I was moving a little delicately since I was still feeling my hidden bruises, and as I tossed my backpack down by the front door I massaged the aching bicep that a hellwolf had tried to use as a chew toy.
"Hey, kiddo," my mom said. "Did you have fun playing Ultimate Frisbee?"
I looked at her in bewilderment before I remembered that had been my cover story for my sudden rash of absences after school while I was out doing my superheroics. I couldn't suggest an actual sports team for fear of it getting around that I wasn't attending, and at Caleb's insistence I opted not to choose something geeky like Chess Club or Model United Nations since my parents might find ways to quiz me on it. It needed to be something they wouldn't want to attend and would ideally explain the occasional injury, so I invented Faraday Midtown High School's Ultimate Club. Caleb and I worked out all sorts of details like team names and rivalries in case they asked, but frankly, Mom and Dad were just happy I was getting out of the house.
"It's just called Ultimate, Mom," I said.
My Dad clapped me on the shoulder as he walked past, causing me to wince in pain. "Hey, you can't make the highlights if you don't dive for 'em, right, son?" Then, noticing my reaction, he said, "You all right?"
I gave a wan smile and nodded. "This guy just plowed right into me. It was like getting hit with a truck."
"Well, as long as you're enjoying yourself."
As I carried the salad bowl to the table, I smiled. "Yeah. I think so. My team argues all the time but the work is challenging and actually kind of fun. I feel like I'm really making a difference in people's lives."
My parents both looked at me strangely.
"I—I mean, I'm making a difference by helping the team. Not like making a difference in the world, or anything. I mean, it's just Frisbee," I said with a nervous snort.
I hated lying to them and not just because I was obviously pretty terrible at it. I sometimes wondered if they might understand, but the circumstances kinda worked against me and somehow I didn't think they'd take to the idea that their teenage son was out fighting crime as a superheroine known as Prodigious Girl.
I figured it best to change the subject. "You're home early," I said as I cast a glance over at my dad. He was an Assistant District Attorney for Faraday City, a job which often demanded long hours. The weed of crime might bear bitter fruit, but it still grew like...well, a weed.
"Yeah, I had a good day today. We won that case against Sojourner. He'll be going away for a long time."
I took a sudden interest in my plate as I served myself. "I thought Sojourner was one of the good guys?"
"Chris, I know you're fascinated with those supers, but believe me, he was nothing of the sort. Vigilantes who work outside the system are as much a danger to the people of this city as any of those so-called supervillains."
I nudged the food around on my plate. "They don't all work outside the system. Some are registered and work with the police."
He shook his head. "That's one skimpy fig leaf," he muttered. "They run around and indiscriminately get into fights...they all need to be held accountable."
"Amen to that," my mom said. "But it keeps you busy putting them away," she said with a little smile.
Yeah, I hated lying to my parents. But I didn't see that changing anytime soon.
"Oh, and speaking of rogue figures in capes, you need to pick up your room, young man," my mom said. "I could hardly get to your laundry basket for all of the toys in the way."
I almost dropped my silverware in shock. "Mom! They're not toys. They're metahuman collectibles and memorabilia."
"Uh huh." She shared a glance with my dad.
I looked between them. "Some of those could be really valuable!" I insisted.
"Like the comic books?" my dad said as he reached for the salad dressing.
"Yes," I contended, though I noticed he seemed to pick up on the uncertainty in my voice. "Some of those collectibles might end up in a museum one day," I added haughtily. "History will be my judge."
He made a small grumble. "Mmm. Well, I'm sure the Smithsonian will appreciate how we're storing these valuable artifacts for them in the meantime."
My mom raised an eyebrow as she looked at me. "And until history rolls around, I'll be your judge. Clean up your room, or I'll do it for you. And I won't guarantee all these priceless relics will survive the purge."
After dinner I trudged upstairs, a bit put out that I, a selfless hero of the city, was being relegated to tidy up his room. I sniffed indignantly as I wondered if any of the other heroes were treated like this. Then I threw open the door and stepped inside.
Or rather I tried to, as the door shoved up against something. I squeaked inside and stepped carefully to avoid treading on the floorplans for the original Starfall Headquarters that were spread across the carpet or the news clippings of Brainchild's rescue at the science museum.
I stood and stared at the cluttered room. "Ugh. Okay, this is pretty bad," I admitted. Between my time as Prodigious Girl and trying to keep up with my homework, I'd definitely let things slide. I dug in and started to clean up.
But almost immediately I nearly gave myself a heart attack when I noticed that I'd left my I-Comm and CosFit devices sitting out in plain view on my desk! I'd been trying to link my I-Comm with my phone so I could get text alerts and I guess I'd forgotten them. It was a stupid mistake not just because I needed those as Prodigious Girl, but if my mom had noticed them there's a fair chance she might have recognized them for what they were and my goose would have been cooked. I guess she just overlooked them in the rest of the clutter.
"Security through obscurity," I muttered to myself as I tucked the items into my backpack.
An hour later, it looked a lot better. For a minute it almost looked like the life-size poster of Promethean over my bed was smiling down in satisfaction, as though he was reminding me that a hero doesn't let slide on things like cleanliness or personal hygiene.
I sighed. "Yeah, well, just the same, I think we can score one for messiness this time," I said to the poster.
With that taken care of, I decided to get a video chat going with Caleb. He'd been doing some research for me about how I might find Prodigy or at least get him a message. Caleb was a whiz at that kind of stuff, and he could rattle off facts and figures about superheroes like other guys might rattle off baseball statistics. So while I was getting nervous since time was running out on my provisional status and I had yet to even lay eyes on my so-called mentor, I knew I had nothing to fear as long as my man Caleb was on the case.
"You're boned," he said flatly as he stared at me from the video screen.
I lowered my voice to make sure my parents couldn't hear. "Dude, I have to find him! My provisional status as a sidekick runs out in less than two weeks, and I haven't even introduced myself to him! Don't you think Prodigy's going to think it's weird I've gone on all this time introducing myself as 'Prodigious Girl' and he doesn't even know me?"
"Well, in your defense you're pretty prodigious in your own right."
"Hilarious. C'mon, tell me you've got something?"
He held up a pile of papers. "I've been looking! I'm on HeroSpotter, SuperTracker, MetaSeeker and a bunch of other sites I don't even remember. Heck, I even tried some of the villain trackers like ScoundrelFinder and GoNaughty," he said. Then he furrowed his brow. "Though I'm starting to think that last one might be for something else."
"Caleb..."
"Dude, I'm telling you, the guy's a freaking ghost."
I stopped short. "You don't think—?"
"No, he's not dead, I'm pretty sure of that." He cocked a grin. "That'd be pretty funny, though, wouldn't it? You, running around as a girl in a leotard for the last few months only to find out it was all for nothing?"
"It's not a leotard," I grumbled as I rubbed my eyes. "Why don't you think he's dead?"
Caleb tapped on the keyboard as he checked something. "It looks like there might have been a couple possible sightings down south of the city in the old tenements at night. Maybe do some patrols through there? Or find some way to get him to notice you."
"Great. Any suggestions?"
He thought for a moment. "I guess you could always raise your skirt a couple more inches."
I gave him a pained smile and nodded.
"Have you given any more thought to how you're going to maintain your secret ID at school?"
"I've got the greatest cover in the world by not being a girl," I shot back, but I knew what he meant. The rise in teenage heroes meant that teens were constantly on the lookout for little clues that a young hero might be hiding in their midst and quickly noticed little clues like a garish piece of jewelry emblazoned with a magic rune or the flash of a bright primary color fabric poking out of one's trousers. Nobody was immune. Even a math club geek could potentially be a young master inventor in disguise, and more than one kid had gotten pantsed for wearing colored underwear that looked a little too suspicious. Poor Marta Randini had practically been assaulted by overeager hero-worshippers when she wore a long-sleeved shirt and pants during a particularly hot autumn day, although her would-be hero worshippers backed off quickly when it turned out she wasn't covering up colorful tights, just an embarrassing skin rash.
So basically, the dawn of the age of heroes had invented a brand new way for teenagers to be even more hyper-aware and critical of each other, and Dr. Reginald Faraday, genius inventor and creator of the supers, had discovered a way to make my teenage life even more tense and awkward than acne had. And now that I was a superhero myself, I had to learn to cover my tracks.
"Don't worry, I've got just the thing," I told Caleb confidently.
As you may have surmised, I did not have 'just the thing,' unless the thing in question was a brain aneurysm that caused temporary insanity. As Prodigious Girl I'd basically been swimming in estrogen during most of my free time and largely hanging out with other teenage heroines who were in the midst of their own battles against the implacable forces of puberty. So by the time I changed back to Chris, I was seriously ready to do whatever stereotypically masculine things I could.
Sadly, being a geek, I didn't really know what those things might entail apart from scratching myself and spitting. Sports were out since there was too much risk I'd accidentally reveal my powers. And there was no way could I break in with the cool kids. Worse, part of my problem was that I couldn't afford a girlfriend nosing around in my life—or even just a female friend, for that matter—so my brilliant scheme led me to the tried-and-true method guaranteed to reinforce my masculinity without running the risk of a girlfriend: to dress like a douchebag and hit on girls with lame pickup lines.
If they ever make a movie out of my life—which at this point I feel safe in assuming will be a comedy—I would like to suggest to the future director that this would be the appropriate time for a montage set to the tune of "Macho Man" by the Village People, wherein the luckless schmuck playing me is seen running around looking like a geek who tries to act like a testosterone-riddled jerk and gets agonizingly shut down by every girl in school. I would further submit that the "hey, hey, hey, hey" chorus would be a great place for a series of quick cuts of said schmuck (i.e. me) getting slapped on the face by various girls. (In fact, nobody actually slapped me—my shutdowns were far more gut-wrenchingly pathetic—but a little cinematic license never hurt.)
And so, I soon found myself walking down the school hallway as I rubbed my cheek where Jackie Gavin had slapped me. (Again, she didn't, and even if she had it wouldn't have hurt my invulnerable skin, but just go with me here...I'm establishing a scene.)
Caleb walked up alongside me and gave me a pained look. "I think you should know that I'm finding it harder to look up to you," he said. "And this is coming from somebody who's okay with you wearing a bra in your free time."
I pulled a mirror out of my pocket to check my gelled-up hair. A girl I knew from History class walked by and I gave her a little wink, which she returned with a look somewhere between disbelief and revulsion.
"Hey, it's working, isn't it?" I told him. "It's just a cover. And besides, I'm kinda liking gettin' to act like a guy for a change." I reached down to adjust my crotch in my faux leather pants.
"Don't you think you're overdoing it a little?"
"I gotta project an image," I said as I stroked my chin. I hadn't shaved in three days and I could feel the little stubble that would one day form a pretty righteous goatee.
"Yeah, well, I'm not really comfortable with it," Caleb said. "I mean, it's one thing for everyone to think you're gay, but now they're starting to look at me like—"
"WHAT?!?"
"Well, that's what you were going for, right? A closeted gay guy?"
"Oh, my God! Why would you think that?"
He scoffed. "Well, c'mon, you dress like you're going to a leather bar and then you brag about girls and hit on them but never make good." I was stunned and didn't say anything but to my horror, he continued. "And it's not just me. People are talking. One guy even asked me if you were seeing anybody, but I told him I didn't think you'd be interested. You're not, right?"
"Of course not!"
He held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, given the things I've seen you do, I didn't want to jump to conclusions. I'm not judging."
We started walking to our next class and I suddenly began to feel extremely self-conscious about all the looks I was getting. I wondered if I could find a way to duck out at lunch discreetly to fly home and change.
"Besides, even if they did think you were gay, It's pretty insulting to assume we're a couple just because we hang out together," he said. "That's just jumping to conclusions."
"Caleb, please stop talking."
"Plus, why do you get to be the butch one? What's that make me?"
"You're still talking, Caleb."
"I'm just saying it's not fair. You run around in a miniskirt and still you get to be the butch one?"
"Well, I can lift a car over my head."
He considered that. "Yeah, okay, that's a good point," he conceded.
* * * * *
The next day I cut out of lunch at school to run a patrol over the city, which was really just a flimsy excuse to clear my head given how tired I was feeling. I'd been sneaking out for a week out to check the tenements where Prodigy might have been spotted and I didn't have anything to show for my time except for preventing one drunk guy from getting mugged. A drunk guy who wanted to express his gratitude in ways that would have made my skin crawl if I'd been a real girl.
Oh, who am I kidding? It did make my skin crawl. Ugh.
As I flew amongst the skyscrapers downtown, I yawned again as I felt the wind in my hair and beheld the city sprawled out beneath me. But just as I was about to glance away I caught a fleeting glimpse of something perched on the ledge of one of the tall buildings. I swung back around and saw a man leaned over with his feet dangling over the edge of the roof, seemingly on the verge of jumping! As I flew up behind him I got a better look at him—a pudgy and balding middle-aged guy in a shirt and tie—but I had no idea what to do. My experience as a hero mostly involved punching things so I wasn't quite sure what to do with a possible suicide attempt. I tentatively landed quietly behind him, noting that he hadn't seemed to notice me yet so I figured I should announce myself and at least get him talking.
"Um, don't jump?" I said tentatively.
"AAAHHH!!" he yelled out in shock, nearly falling off the ledge.
"Oh, God, hang on!" I cried as I leapt forward to catch him before he fell. But as I reached him I realized that he wasn't nearly as off-balance as he seemed, and when I saw his face he was grinning at me from ear to ear.
"Sorry," he laughed, "I couldn't resist. Man, you should have seen the look on your face." As I looked down on the ledge next to him I saw a paper lunch bag and a half-eaten sandwich.
"That wasn't funny," I chastised him in as officious a tone as I could muster. "You could have died."
"You can fly, right? You could have caught me."
"Well...yes," I admitted. "But that's not the point," I maintained, now less certain what my point was. "You probably shouldn't even be up here."
"It's fine, I come up here all the time. Trust me, the guy who owns the place doesn't mind."
"How do you—" I stopped mid-sentence as I looked him in the face. "Oh, my God, you're Marty Maddox."
"Guilty," he said as he motioned at the ledge for me to sit down. I did so and scarcely took my eyes off of him as he picked up his sandwich and took a bite. Marty Maddox was a legend in the superhero community. He didn't have any powers or special abilities, but when the Liberty Squadron formed when he was still a teenager, he became their unofficial "mascot," and often accompanied them on their adventures. Back then there was hardly a kid alive who didn't dream of swapping places with him. Sure, getting superpowers yourself was Plan A, but failing that, just getting to hang out with the supers all the time? That was in "pinch me, I'm dreaming," nerdgasm territory.
Of course now, more than thirty years later, Marty had given up adventuring and owned AGON Technologies, a company that provided technology and support to the heroes of the city. From his round face and pot belly it looked like he'd given up exercising as well, but he had a mischievous gleam in his eye as he looked over at me.
I realized that I'd been staring, so I blinked and flashed a smile as I tried to sound casual. "You, uh, come up here often?"
"Mmm hmm. Great view of the city, and it still geeks me out to see the heroes flying by. Sometimes I get a view when a fight breaks out, too. You remember that rumpus with Golgotha and the Gamma Kaiju? Best seat in the city, right here." He reached into his lunch bag. "Hey, I've got an extra sandwich in here. You hungry?"
"Oh, uh, thanks, no, I should be going," I said.
He nodded. "I get it. City in danger, people to save, right?"
"Right."
"Well, you fly safe, miss. Keep fighting the good fight!"
"Thanks," I said quietly as I stared at his earnest smile.
Thirty minutes later I was sitting next to him as I polished off the last of a juice box while I tried to figure out a discreet way to brush away the sandwich crumbs that had fallen into my cleavage. (Yet another new occupational hazard that I had never envisioned in my career as a superhero.)
"You were like the original sidekick!" I gushed. "I—I mean—"
"No, it's okay," he said. "You're right, I was. I was never going to be a hero like those guys. I was just lucky to be there. And it was insane I was there in the first place, a teenager running around in those situations? Like you—how old are you? 20? 22?"
"I'm sixteen."
He did a double take but to my surprise at least his eyes didn't cut down to ogle my chest. It was kind of refreshing.
"Yikes, what are they feeding you kids these days?" he said.
Well, somewhat refreshing.
"Yeah, I get that a lot," I sighed as I looked down and tucked my hair back, feeling self-conscious. "So, uh, why didn't you ever become a hero?"
He shook his head. "Ah, I tried it once but it just wasn't me. I guess I could have done it, but stuffing my flabby ass into a suit of powered armor wouldn't change who I am. I guess some people are just born to be sidekicks."
I thought that was the saddest thing I'd ever heard in my life. We talked for a few minutes longer, but his words were still ringing in my ears long after we talked. Ever since I got my powers it had never even occurred to me that I might not become a hero. I viewed this deal with Prodigy as a temporary detour to become a sidekick and make a name for myself (both figuratively and literally if I could get him to bequeath it to me), but the thought of never being anything more than a sidekick? My mind reeled at the prospect. I mean, sure, Marty had done a lot for the city without being a superhero, but it seemed so disheartening.
I sighed. Of course at this point I wasn't even as good as a sidekick. I still needed to find my mentor and convince him I was worth the trouble. And then I had to find a discreet way to coax him into retirement so I could carry on in his name. I felt a little guilty about that, but at least I'd do the name proud. And as I looked down and discreetly brushed the last of the sandwich crumbs out of my cleavage, I was more than ready to give up this ridiculous body so I could become a real superhero.
* * * * *
The next day I got a signal from Quasarblaze who said that he had a line on "something huge" and that we were to meet him that night in the warehouse district downtown. I fed my folks a story about spending the night at Caleb's to study for a test—I don't think they bought it but they had no reason not to trust me—and made for the address. When I arrived, Blaze and Triggerhappy were already there...as well as Enchantrix and Bhramari.
Given their feelings about the guys I was surprised to see them there, but before I could say anything, Trixie pulled me aside and said, "I knew you'd come. I didn't want these idiots getting you killed."
"Thanks," I smiled.
Blaze explained that he'd gotten a tip from a "reliable source" that there was to be a break-in that night at one of these warehouses that were owned by Faraday Unlimited. We took position on a neighboring rooftop and stayed out of sight while Bhramari sent out insects to scout the buildings, leaving the rest of us to sit there on our stakeout, bored out of our minds.
"So, you are from England, then," I said to Trixie, trying to learn a little more about her.
"Of course. But I didn't get my powers from my parents. I'm the first one in my family to learn magic."
"How?"
"My parents were always very evasive about the whole thing but apparently it happened when I was very little. My father did some kind of service for these three supernatural beings—he's never been quite clear what—so to repay the debt they visited me when I was little and bestowed this magic upon me."
"Really," I said, fascinated. I'd followed all kinds of superheroes but I knew very little about the ones that used magic. "Were they the ones who trained you, too?"
"Mmm hmm," she nodded. "Of course my father's actions also brought us to the attention of another more wicked spellcaster. She put—I guess you'd call it a curse—on me and I had to go away with the three other beings in hiding."
"What, away from your parents? That's awful!"
"It was at first. I—"
We were interrupted by a loud snicker. I turned to look accusingly at Triggerhappy, who had been double-checking his equipment nearby and was now fighting to hide a smile.
"Hey, that's really sad!" I chided him.
"Uh huh," he chortled.
I turned back to Trixie thinking she might be put out with him, but she didn't seem angry. In fact, she was giving him an annoyed look, almost like she was—
My eyes narrowed. "That was Sleeping Beauty," I said.
"I also have a brilliant story about this time I had some very swank glass slippers if you want to hear it," she said with a smile.
"God, you are so gullible," Triggerhappy laughed.
I just sat there and made a face as I felt the blood rush to my cheeks in embarrassment. Now I did feel like a dumb bimbo. I was starting to figure I should just change my hair to blonde and get the whole package.
"Oh, I think it's sweet how PG is so trusting," Trixie teased.
Silence soon returned, and with it, boredom.
"We need theme songs," Triggerhappy said.
"Oh, Lord," I groaned.
"C'mon, it's a great idea! Just think!" He grinned again and started singing, "Prodigious Girl, Prodigious Girl, does whatever a—"
I grabbed him roughly by the arm. "I strongly advise against finishing that sentence."
Trixie turned to Quasarblaze, who had been typing away on a small electronic pad. "What are you writing, anyway?"
"It's an apology."
Trixie and I looked at each other in astonishment. "What, for real?" she said.
"Yeah, my publicist wanted me to look it over. Next time I'm on TV he wants me to make some insulting remark about the cops in this city to stir up some negative publicity. Then later I'll read this apology and say how everybody misunderstood what I meant in the first place. It'll boost my ratings."
"That's appalling."
"No, what's appalling is that when we make our score tonight that bug girl over there is going to get equal credit for the takedowns. Is this some kind of equal opportunity bullshit, bringing her along?"
"Jesus, Blaze!" I said.
"You asshole, she's sitting right there!" Trixie spat.
He looked at Mari and scoffed. "What? She's got her back to us. It's not like she can hear us, anyway." Just then, he cried out and swatted at his bare cheek that was visible under his visor, obviously having been stung by something. "Fuck, was that—"
We turned and saw that Mari's hand was raised, flipping him the bird again.
"How the hell did she—?"
"She's deaf, but she can see and hear through the insects she's communicating with, you dimwit."
Triggerhappy peered over at Mari. "Is that how her powers work?"
Trixie looked at me helplessly and shook her head. "Right, this is ridiculous, I'm out of here. Mari, you want a lift, or..." Her voice trailed off and I turned to see that Mari had her head tilted slightly, as though she was concentrating on something. She then snapped her fingers twice to get our attention.
"Finally. Showtime," Blaze said.
Mari soon led us through the maze of warehouses to the one where she had observed some suspicious activity going on. Sadly, our group wasn't the best at sneaking. Supposedly Blaze's super-ability involved having some kind of knack with machines which he used to fashion his powered armor, so he relied on the built-in rockets to fly, and neither TH nor Mari had any special movement powers. So, as I flew up and carried Blaze onto the rooftop, Trixie portaled the others.
"Shouldn't we be worried about tripping the alarm ourselves?" Trixie wondered, looking around the rooftop.
"They already disarmed it," Blaze said absently. I wasn't sure if that meant he had some special insight to actually know that, or if he just didn't want to be bothered with any more delays.
We crept over to the windows to look inside and saw as a bunch of guys ransacked the joint, presumably searching for something specific.
"See? I told you!" Blaze whispered. "C'mon, we jump 'em and they'll never see us coming!"
"That's a lot of guys," Trixie whispered. "And they are carrying some serious tech."
"Don't be such a girl!"
"Yeah? Don't be such a—"
"Quiet!" I hissed, looking at the group. I turned to Mari and signed for her to reconnoiter, and we watched as a few houseflies on the opposite side of the glass lined up and started to fly an organized search pattern. As she stared off into space, she began to sign what they were seeing.
"Six guys with blasters," Trixie said.
Blaze scoffed. "See? Easy! We jump in—"
Mari signed further.
"Three more guys with some kind of exo-armor."
"We can take 'em."
Mari hesitated and signed something else and turned to look at Trixie in concern. Trixie then signed something back, and the two of them got into some kind of debate. I followed about a quarter of the conversation, but what I understood I didn't like.
"What is it?" TH asked.
Trixie took a deep breath. "There's also two supervillains down there. It's Killdozer and Killbane."
The girls and I looked at each other apprehensively, but a slow smile spread on Blaze's face that was visible beneath the line of his opaque goggles. "How tough do they look?" he asked.
* * * * *
I feel like I should pause here just a moment to address a couple questions that usually arise. Namely, what was the big deal since we'd been fighting villains all along, and second, what's up with those god-awful names?
So, second question first. You may be wondering why the villains have such lame names, especially if—being lawless blackguards that they are—they would certainly thumb their noses at that damnable registration system. (And also law and order.) Well, here's a fun fact: villains have a registration system, too!
Being the anarchist types that they are it's a bit more decentralized and totally voluntary, but to understand why a lawbreaker would submit themselves to the same excruciating process that I did, you need a lesson from Dr. Malevolence.
No, not the guy who tried to sink Australia. The other one.
Yep, that's right...some noob villain thought he could build up his cred by naming himself after the world-conquering despot and just changing the "Doctor" to "Dr." and arguing that he wasn't stepping on the good Doctor's tentacles. (In his defense, this wayward soul did in fact have a doctorate in the liberal arts. To my knowledge, the curriculum vitae of the better-known world-threatening malefactor remains a mystery.)
PRO TIP: If you're going to steal someone's moniker, don't choose the name of an egomaniacal power-mad despot who commands his very own army of soulless enforcer demons. Or, better yet, do exactly that...it'll save us good guys the trouble of arresting you. I'll send flowers.
After the sad, predictable, and wildly brief career of Dr. Malevolence (PhD, Fine Arts) as well as a couple similar situations where a villain's namesake was unable to adequately articulate the linguistic nuance to the original (and more powerful) owner, the bad guys quickly decided that lawlessness didn't have to mean complete anarchy, and it might be smart to post the names of known villains so as to avoid any unnecessary infighting. Being voluntary, people were of course free to ignore the registry and use whatever name they wished, but "buyer beware."
As to the first question, yes, my teammates and I had indeed dispatched quite a few evildoers in our short careers. However, this father-and-son villain duo were both Class III power level, which as Sidekicks we were specifically forbidden from engaging without a Hero present. We might have bent the rules and taken on just one of them alone, but both together with a squad supporting them was fighting way above our power level.
Or so went the argument.
* * * * *
"Forget it," Trixie said to Blaze, turning to Mari as she frantically signed something. "I—yes. Yes, I know. I know!"
"What's she saying?" Triggerhappy asked.
I followed enough to get the gist of it. "She thinks we should fall back and call it in."
"Well, that's the lightweights heard from," Blaze said. "PG, you're up for this, right?"
Normally I'd have told him where to stuff it, but all I could think about was the clock that was fast running out on my Sidekick status. If we could take these guys out—or even just drive them off—that might be just the feather in my cap I needed for when I finally found Prodigy. I was torn.
I looked at Blaze and hoped that maybe he'd see reason and would back down to save me from having to make a decision. "It would be very difficult," I told him. "Not to mention very...uncomfortable."
"Difficult and uncomfortable, like you trying to sleep on your stomach?"
Right, this was the guy that I'd hoped would steer me away from foolhardy stupidity.
Trixie looked at my pensive face. "Peej, tell me you're not actually considering this."
"Trix, I need this. I haven't even laid eyes on Prodigy yet. If I don't get his attention soon, I either have to go vigilante or hang it up. I can't do that."
"Since when are those your only options?" she snapped. "You can come with Mari and me...I'll introduce you to our mentor, I'm sure she'd take you in..."
"I...can't. It's complicated." I turned to Blaze. "All right, I'm in. How are we doing this?"
Trixie ran her fingers along her scalp, burying her fingers in the long platinum blonde locks of her hair. "Are you insane?" she said. She looked at Mari, who was still sitting there shocked.
"We take 'em out a couple at a time," Blaze said. "We drop down, sweep the edge—"
"And get killed the second they hear you," Trixie said. "You are going to die. Dead. In the ground."
Triggerhappy sniggered. "Oh, no!" he declared dramatically as he threw his arms around me. "I don't want to die a virgin! Please, Prodigious Girl, help me!" he laughed.
I shoved him off of me. "Shut up!"
"You think getting killed is a joke?" Trixie said.
"Look, stay out of this," Blaze said. "You made your de—"
"Fine, I'm in. Whatever," she said testily.
"Trixie—" I said.
"Shut up. You're an idiot. I'm saving you just like I'd save some moron that walks out into traffic. I'm in." Then Bhramari stepped forward. "We're both in," she amended.
"I was just kidding, I'm not really a virgin," TH said.
"Fine," Blaze said. "So, like I said, we sweep—"
"Wait, Trixie's right," I said. "We can't just go in shooting or we'll bring the whole place down on us." I thought for a second. "Trix, can you portal someone to us?"
"I think so. Maybe out to about a hundred feet or so? But I have to see them, and I can't see around all those boxes. But if you fly me above them, they'll spot us for sure."
I nodded. "You once portaled me from around a corner."
"Yeah, but I kinda magically 'tagged' you first. I could do that with one of us, but then the person I tag would have to go up and grab the guys. Then I could bring you both back. But none of us is that stealthy. They'd see us coming from a mile away."
"Okay, so we're back to my plan," Blaze said. "We go in—"
"Just wait a second," I insisted, looking at Trixie again. "Just how small a 'someone' could you tag to portal back?"
Her brow furrowed. "I don't—" Then, she followed my gaze as I looked at Bhramari. "Oh, that's good," she said, smiling.
We sneaked down into the warehouse and set up shop in one of the corner offices in the hope that it was far enough out of the way to not draw too much attention. As I shoved the furniture out of the way to make a target zone, TH prepared some tangle grenades and Mari sent one of her little insect helpers out to find our first victim. Trixie had magically "tagged" the little guy and was waiting for Mari's signal to open the portal to bring him back to us...along with whatever unfortunate soul he happened to have landed on.
We were all silent and tense as we watched Mari's face. Then, she nodded and the next thing we knew Trixie opened a portal into the target area and standing there in front of us was one of the mercenaries with a priceless "what the fuck" look on his face. TH's tangle grenade went off, I grabbed him, and Blaze and TH blasted him into unconsciousness.
"Okay, this one is going in the playbook," Triggerhappy said.
"Only if we can call it the 'peekaboo' maneuver," I grinned as I tossed the guy's unconscious body on the sofa to clear the area for our next victim.
We quickly fell into a "lather, rinse, repeat" cycle as Mari found more victims, but we had to reposition twice to different offices since the soldiers were getting out of Trixie's portal range. We'd wiped out most of the footsoldiers and one of the guys in exo-armor, but we'd had to delve deeper into the warehouse with less and less cover and had lost track of the two villains.
Mari stared into space as her insect searched around, but by now we were out in the open in the warehouse and very exposed. Everyone was visibly on edge as we anxiously kept watch all around us.
"Hic!"
The sudden yelping noise made us all jump, and it took us a moment to realize the source. Mari.
"Hic!" she repeated as she clapped her hand over her mouth.
"Are you fucking kidding me with this?" Blaze hissed. "She can't talk, but she can get the hiccups?"
Mari let out another muffled hiccup and frantically signed something.
Even Trixie was incredulous. "I don't care if you're nervous!" she snapped.
I motioned for them to keep it down. "Guys, you gotta— Oh, crud. Incoming."
The concussive blast from the guy in the exo-armor caught me full in the chest and sent me flying. It stung like hell but fortunately I was more surprised than hurt as I crashed butt-first into a stack of boxes, rebounded off of them and skidded to a halt next to a doorway.
Right at the feet of the two villains.
"Oh, hey, we were just looking for you guys," I said.
Any semblance of stealth or order evaporated as the room exploded into weapons fire, both theirs and ours. Killdozer and Killbane in particular seemed startled, obviously not expecting a buxom brunette heroine to throw herself at their feet. I used that brief hesitation and my slightly unusual position to punch them both in the nuts as hard as I could.
My aim was good and their howls of pain actually made me feel a little bad for opening with such a cheap shot. Killbane—the son—definitely took it the worse of the two and from what I remembered of him, he was considered the more dangerous with his "hellfire blasts." His father was very strong and tough, abilities that were not unlike my own...only more powerful. Which served to explain why he was able to recover so quickly from my punch.
"Bitch!" he yelled as he grabbed me painfully by my hair—ow!—and picked me up like I was a rag doll. He slammed me into the door frame and then swung me around and threw me through the wall and back into the warehouse. I was so disoriented that I hardly realized that I'd smashed into Trixie on my landing.
"Are you o—oh, boy," I said as Killdozer closed the distance and grabbed me by the arm. He picked me up and hammered me to the ground and out of the corner of my eye I saw Mari dive for cover among some pallets to avoid being hit. Pain lanced through my side as the room seemed to spin around, but I was starting to get just the teensiest bit annoyed at being used as an improvised melee weapon against my friends.
Killdozer still had a grip on me and I figured I'd try and catch him off-guard. Instead of punching him back, I took off flying into the air full-speed while he held on and then executed a speedy mid-air pirouette and kicked him as hard as I could in the chest. The maneuver surprised him enough that he loosened his grip just enough that my kick dislodged him and sent him sailing into some crates with a satisfying crash. He roared more from anger than from pain and as I hovered above the fight I used the brief reprieve to see how we were doing.
Trixie was conscious but disoriented, and Mari had ducked out of sight. It looked like TH and Blaze were engaged with the two guys in exo-armor and seemed to have things pretty well in hand, and I knew my playmate would be back on me any second. That just left—
"AAAAHHH!" I screamed as a curtain of fire enveloped me from below. In my short career as a hero I'd been shot at with all manner of attacks, but I'd never felt anything like that before. I looked at my burned side, half expecting it to be charred or worse and was surprised when the damage wasn't nearly as bad as I expected given how excruciating it had felt. I swooped down to take cover and wondered if maybe the attack had somehow set off my pain receptors directly. It wasn't much comfort.
Killbane stepped into view and was lining up another shot when I suddenly realized that in my desire to seek cover I'd landed right next to Trixie and that both TH and Blaze were right behind me. I'd bunched us up like bowling pins.
Unexpectedly, however, Killbane recoiled and swatted at his face like something had gotten in his eyes. "Thank you, Mari," I whispered as I watched him erupt into flames that covered his entire body, no doubt vaporizing any flying pests.
With the precious seconds Mari had bought me, I flew as fast as I could past TH and Blaze and grabbed the one remaining guy in exo-armor that was barely standing.
"Sorry, need to borrow this," I said to Blaze as I grabbed the guy. "Be a lamb and keep Killdozer busy a sec, will you?"
As I sped back at full-speed, I could hear the hulking villain's roar behind me followed by TH and Blaze's frantic shouting as they opened fire. But I had a different target. Using the armored guy as a shield, I smashed myself straight into Killbane who yelled out in pain as he smashed through the wall into the adjoining room. I dropped my now-unconscious "shield" to the floor.
Triggerhappy howled in pain as Killdozer smashed seemingly effortlessly through the force bubble TH had erected and straight into my teammate's mid-section, probably breaking a couple of ribs. Meanwhile, Blaze had taken to the air and was flying overhead and taking pot shots at the villain but both he and Trixie were holding back somewhat since TH was dangerously close to the line of fire.
"Portal TH out of there and then hit this guy hard," I said to Trixie before launching myself into the fray. I caught Killdozer with a flying tackle that frankly didn't do as much damage as I'd hoped, but it definitely got his attention as I saw TH get portaled back to where Trixie was standing. We tussled on the ground for a moment, but the next thing I knew he was behind me and had me in some kind of wrestling hold as he dragged me to my feet.
"AAH!" I cried as he nearly dislocated my shoulder.
"Okay, enough of this Junior Varsity shit," Killdozer growled to the team. "Stand down or I pull Barbie's arms off."
"Aww, c'mon, I haven't had this much fun since Cinco de Mayo," I said as I struggled helplessly in his grip.
From the other side of the room, Killbane appeared and looked like he was ready to murder someone. "Just hold her steady, old man," he said as flames erupted in his hands and trickled up his arms.
Trixie turned to face him. "Good thinking. Candy-ass pussy like you should stick with hitting girls who can't hit back."
"WHAT." Flames erupted all over his body as he locked his eyes on her with...well, with fire in his eyes.
"Trixie, I'm not so sure that's a great idea," I offered.
"Hey, why start being smart now, right? Not that this fool is in any danger of having a smart idea. You just got schooled by a bunch of Sidekicks, genius. You're gonna be the bitch of the cell block when they hear about this."
Furious, Killbane didn't even say anything as the fire across his body surged violently.
"PIÑATA!" Trixie yelled.
The "piñata maneuver" was a little something we cooked up when we noticed a certain pattern that emerged in some of our fights. First, I could take a punch pretty well. Second, whenever I fought someone else with super strength, they almost always found some excuse to wrestle and grapple with me and usually in ways that let them cop a feel, the perverts. Third, for some reason, they almost always seemed to forget that I could fly.
Killdozer had me in an unbreakable grip, but he soon discovered that didn't do much to immobilize someone who could defy gravity. Before he realized what was going on, I flew upwards as he clung on to me while we hovered there like a balloon. Then, before he had time to react, I spun us around so that his back was facing my team.
TH and Blaze opened fire with everything they had, and from behind me I heard the near simultaneous sounds of Killbane's hellfire blast and one of Trixie's portals that she'd doubtless opened in front of her to redirect his attack. The down side of this maneuver was that it still left me open to a lot of the spill-over damage that wasn't absorbed by Killdozer, so I gritted my teeth as I got pummeled and once again shrieked in pain as Killbane's fire raked against my body. But as bad as it hurt me, I knew it was nothing compared to what his father got hit with. His howls of agony were music to my ears.
When the assault ended, Killdozer slumped off my shoulders and fell heavily to the ground with a dull thud. Killbane was trying to figure out what just happened, so I spun around in mid-air and shot him a cocky grin.
"Ha! I bet that's gonna—hey!"
I was cut off in mid-taunt when a last-minute friendly fire attack from Blaze hit me smack in the middle of my chest.
"Sorry!" he said with a smile as he apologized for the late hit.
My mild annoyance flared to anger when I realized that he'd hit me with one of his corrosive acid shells. It wasn't enough to do any real damage to my invulnerable skin, but it ate through the front of my costume, dissolving it.
"Oh, you ass!" I said as I covered my naked breasts with my hands.
"I said sorry!" he laughed.
"I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!" Killbane roared, reminding us all that we weren't out of the woods yet. Enraged, the flames on his body changed to a blazing blue-white color and he started to shoot at us with murderous zeal. At first he didn't seem very discriminating in his attacks, but I realized that he'd started to fixate on Trixie as the focal point of his rage.
"AAAHHHH!!" she screamed in agony as one of his blasts caught her in the thigh, causing her to fall to the ground.
Blaze and TH opened fire, but Killbane's flames seemed to be shielding him from their blasts. He looked unstoppable.
I knew what I had to do.
As fast as I could I catapulted myself forward to make it look like I intended to hit him straight on and at the last second dodged out of the way as he fired at me and I narrowly avoided the lethal attack. I swung up behind him and before I could change my mind I grabbed him in an approximation of the hold that his father had used on me.
He was still engulfed in his aura of hellfire and as I held him tight, it burned me like a branding iron. I screamed as I held him and tried to focus on immobilizing his arms. But the pain...the pain was indescribable, as though it had seeped into every pore of my body, trying to annihilate me from within.
"You stupid cunt!" Killbane swore as he ramped up the flames so that they were nearly blinding. But still I held on. I'd prevented him from attacking my friends with his blasts, but while I held him I was helpless against his onslaught. Through the haze of pain, I looked at him and noticed that he wasn't even all that much older than I was, probably just some young punk with powers and an attitude. And as my consciousness started to waver, I started to notice silly little details...the smell of brimstone from his powers, the way one of his ears had a little nick taken out of it... All I could think was that it would be so easy to just let go...
"NO!" I yelled. I cried from the torture, but any tears I shed were vaporized instantly in the blast furnace I found myself in. I saw as my teammates stood there helplessly, not sure what they could do to help me. But as the fire started to pulse, I knew he was building to an explosion.
"Go! Get out of here!" I yelled.
They shouted something back but I couldn't hear their words. Trixie was crying and Blaze yelled something at her. The last thing I saw before the light got too blinding was the sight of my friends portaling away to safety.
I was going to die.
I was absolutely sure of it, but still I held on, past the point of all hope or reason.
And then, suddenly, the pain stopped.
Killbane still burned his inferno as he screamed threats and boasts at me, but all of a sudden it seemed ridiculous. I had him in a hold he couldn't possibly break, and I guess his powers had conked out! There wasn't any pain anymore, and if anything, I felt exhilarated standing there in the flames. I actually laughed! I released him and as he spun around to look at me, the confidence on his face evaporated.
"How the hell are you—?"
I hit him in the face as hard as I could and knocked him cold and he slumped to the floor, unconscious.
"Prodigy, you'd better be worth all this," I muttered as I tried to catch my breath.
Just then, I heard Trixie's portal open as the others poured out. They were ready for action, but obviously unprepared for the scene in front of them.
"Holy shit," Blaze said. At first I thought he was just impressed with my accomplishment when the puerile little snickers from him and TH reminded me about my naked boobs.
"Damn it," I muttered as I covered myself up with my hands. The nanomesh fibers of my costume struggled to repair themselves to restore a modicum of decency, so I pulled my cape around to cover myself up.
"You don't have to do that," Blaze sniggered.
"You did this on purpose, you turd!"
"Hey, accidents happen!" The little punk couldn't even say it with a straight face, and TH gave him a high five.
The girls were equally put off by the childish antics, but to their credit maintained a semblance of professionalism.
"How did you beat him?" Trixie asked, looking at the unconscious Killbane.
I shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think I outlasted him. I guess I got lucky."
She punched me in the arm. "Dumbass."
Mari had searched nearby and waved for us to come over.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Hic!" she hiccupped, causing Blaze to growl in annoyance. She shook her head and pointed at a crate and signed a message to Trixie.
"It must be what they were after," I said. "What is it?" The crate was sealed, but there was a long identifying number on it as well as a series of warnings. I snapped a picture with my I-Comm.
From outside we could hear the sound of sirens as the cops arrived, obviously in response to our fight.
Blaze smiled and rubbed his hands together briskly. "Okay! Everyone just shut up and let me do all the talking."
"Man, I hope this was worth it," I muttered.
"It might have been if you'd actually been here," a woman's voice said from right behind us.
We all practically jumped in shock and spun around to see a woman—obviously a super—with short brown hair wearing black polykinetic body armor and carrying a red energy shield. She had a red utility belt that had a pistol and what looked to be a pretty mean-looking sword. We belatedly hunkered down into fighting stances, but she was just standing there and didn't seem particularly impressed.
"Guys, wait!" Trixie said. "We know her. This is Harridan."
Trixie and Mari relaxed visibly, so the rest of us slowly followed suit. Mari breathed a heavy sigh of relief and signed something to Trixie.
"Well, at least it got rid of your hiccups. Harridan, what are you doing here?" she asked. "Wait, were you following us?"
"It's a good thing! What the hell were you thinking, taking these guys on?"
Blaze stepped forward. "We took them out is what we did. And now we're going to go get credit for it."
"Stop right there, little man," Harridan said firmly as she blocked his path with her arm.
Blaze froze and turned very slowly to look at her. "You want to dance, skag?"
I closed my eyes and winced.
"Oh, would I ever," she said tightly. "But you have to sneak out the back and run along home."
"And why would we do that?"
"Because you halfwits were stupid enough to take on a squad of guys way above your power level without your mentors present. I know who their mentor is," she said as she glanced towards a very guilty-looking Trixie and Mari, "and maybe Demetria will take the heat and bail them out. But if any of you three are 'undeclared,' you're going down with nobody to protect you. So, I guess it comes down to this: you were stupid enough to have gotten this far, but are you stupid enough to go out there and admit what you did?"
We all stared at each other uncertainly. But we all knew how this was going to go down.
"God damn it!" Quasarblaze swore once we were a safe distance away on a quiet downtown street. He viciously kicked the corner of a nearby wall, sending pieces of brick and mortar flying. "That bitch! We do all the work, we get all the takedowns, and she's over there right now taking all the motherfucking credit!"
"Hey, we got off light. That could have gone a lot worse," said Trixie.
"QB's right, that was some serious bullshit," Triggerhappy grumbled.
I was inclined to agree with the guys, but I was exhausted and felt like ten miles of bad road and wasn't in the mood for an argument. "Well, the important thing is that we stopped the robbery and those guys are on their way to prison."
"How the hell is that the important thing?" Blaze demanded.
"You can blog about your disappointment," I snapped. Then my anger at Blaze reminded me of something else. "Oh, and you want to explain that bullcrap you pulled back there during the fight?"
TH jumped in. "Hey, QB said that was an accident!"
I walked right up to Blaze and looked him square in the face. His visor obscured his eyes, but I stared into the reflective surface, seeing my own angry face.
"I want to hear him say it."
Blaze laughed once like I was being ridiculous, but I maintained my intense glare. He cocked a nervous grin. "This is so stupid," he said, smiling and looking away and then back. "It's like I said, it was an accident."
Trixie and Mari looked at each other in amazement and then sidled up alongside me. "Why you little..." Trixie whispered, "You did do it on purpose! You jackass, we were in the middle of a fight!"
"Hey, nobody got hurt! Her costume's fixing itself, no harm done. So her puppies got a little air. Just look at 'em! It's a miracle they stayed in as long as they did."
I started to speak up but Trixie was on a roll. "Her pupp—? Do you even hear yourself? You think girls like being objectified like that? I mean, it's not like she chose to look like she does!"
I could feel the moral high ground slipping away beneath my feet. "Um, right..." I muttered.
"C'mon, it was no big deal."
"Looked plenty big to me," TH snickered.
"Okay, that's it," I said. I'd hoped I was done with fighting for the evening, but I felt like I could manage one more for a special occasion.
"Wait," Trixie said as she put her hand on my arm. "I have something so much better."
Mari looked at me pleadingly so I grit my teeth and nodded to Trixie as she slowly turned to the two guys.
"Have you boys ever heard of the curse of Venus Castina?" she asked. "No? Well, let me enlighten you." A small flash of magical green fire erupted from her fingers to reveal a pretty pink orchid in her hand. "Lovely, isn't it? It's very special because it only grows in one very unique place. Because you see, the 'curse' was actually meant as a blessing from the goddess Aphrodite, given to a male priest as a boon of her gratitude. She would cast the spell, and before their amazed eyes, the priest's manhood would change color and then twist and change...until *POOF*!" She held up the blossom suddenly. "It changed into this very flower."
Blaze laughed nervously once. "That is such bullshit."
Trixie approached him slowly as she brandished the flower in front of her. "Oh, no! Because you see, the flower only blossomed there because it was planted in the most fertile place possible," she explained. "Within the priest's brand-new, warm...wet...vagina." She waved her hand over the plant, and the petals opened up dramatically to reveal a surprisingly long and thick pink stamen that stood erect from the middle of the blossom in an extremely phallic way. The guys weren't laughing anymore and their eyes were fixed on the flower.
Trixie gave them a little smirk. "It was customary for the new 'girls' to give their new equipment a test run with one of the virile male acolytes. The young lad would come up to her and—pluck—!" she moved the flower in a sudden gesture and they both jumped, "—the flower from her maidenhood. She would then wear it in her hair as she experienced sex as a woman for the very first time," she said. "It's where the term 'deflowering' comes from."
She placed the blossom in Blaze's hand as he looked nervously at the phallic flower. "Now. If you shitheads ever pull a stunt like that again, I swear to almighty Kronos that I will bestow this 'blessing' on both of you, and you'll each get a pretty little flower of your own."
She spun around and walked away as her cape billowed dramatically behind her. Mari and I were just as stunned as the boys, but we hurried after her.
"Jesus," I whispered as we walked away. "Would you really do that to them?"
"What? No, I made the whole thing up," she scoffed. "I saw that freaky flower in the flower shop across the street and teleported it over. It really looked like a dong, didn't it?" she said.
I stared at her in amazement.
"Glamour and misdirection," she said with a grin. "Also, I've been taking a creative writing class."
I said goodnight to Trixie and Mari, eager to get home and maybe get a few hours of sleep before I had to be up for school the next morning. My entire body hurt, but at least my shapeshifting power helped the healing process along. With any luck I'd be back to peak performance after a few days, but in the meantime my power helped to cosmetically hide the cuts and bruises. And my costume had repaired most of the damage as well, having knitted itself together at least well enough to avoid exposing myself. So I just felt like hell.
After the girls left I flew to a nearby rooftop and paused just long enough to send a message to Caleb saying I had a lot to tell him in the morning. But just as I was about to take off I heard the sound of something metal fall at my feet. Puzzled, I looked down at my communicator, thinking that maybe something had come loose during the fight.
"Huh. That's—"
The explosion knocked me off my feet and sent me skidding across the rooftop. It stung like hell—especially since I was still nursing my wounds from the fight—but it could have been a lot worse. The bright light blinded me and my ears were ringing as I blinked and tried to see who it was that attacked me, but I knew I was in no shape for a fight. I was still reeling and wasn't even sure which end was up, but I took off flying in the hopes of getting some distance between us.
Unfortunately, being almost blind, what I thought was "up" was actually sideways, and I only made it about twenty feet before I plowed into the rooftop again. I put my hands on the ground to get my bearings just in time to see through bleary eyes something like a small silver ball come right at me. Unable to react in time, I braced myself...as it rebounded harmlessly off my chest and fell to the ground with a soft metal clank.
"Shit!" I heard a man's voice say.
Well, I was glad to hear that someone else was having a tough night.
I wasted no time and launched myself skywards as I tried to get my bearings, but almost immediately I saw another one of those grenades coming at me. It tagged me in the stomach and deployed some kind of ultra-strong tanglewire that wrapped around my legs, up my chest, and pinned one of my arms against my body. I smiled. Obviously this guy didn't realize that since I could fly, that wasn't going to do anything to immobili—
"AAAH!" I cried out as the device started to screech out a painful shrieking noise. In an instant I lost all sense of equilibrium and my flight path went from being erratic to absolutely out of control. Before I even realized where I was or what was going on, I slammed full speed into something hard. I was so disoriented I wasn't even sure if it was the ground or a wall.
As I writhed on the ground and struggled to free myself, my vision cleared up enough to see someone standing in front of me. I could tell he was a super and was dressed in form-fitting tactical body armor with a utility belt and bandolier. His short-cropped silver-white hair was visible above the mask that covered his aged face, and I noticed that his costume favored dark colors with midnight blues and purples...just like mine.
"Prodigy?" I croaked.
"I hope you're actually on the cheerleading squad, 'cause if this is what heroes look like these days, I weep for the future," he growled.
Still prone on the rooftop, I flexed my aching muscles and snapped the tanglewire that had wrapped itself around me, at least enough to get myself loose. After I finished pulling it from around my boots, Prodigy leaned over and held out his hand. At first I thought he was offering me a hand up when he snapped his fingers and pointed at the grenade lying on the ground next to me that had failed to go off.
"Give that here," he said.
Nonplussed, I handed him the device, which he inspected.
"Disappointing," he muttered.
"What was it supposed to do?" I asked as I hauled myself to my feet.
"I was talking about you." He put the device back into his belt and looked me up and down. "How old are you?" he asked.
I'd actually been wondering the same thing about him. I was having trouble placing his age, especially since he was wearing the mask, but he was definitely north of sixty, maybe pushing seventy. He was in excellent shape for a guy that old—like one of those aging action heroes in the movies—but still.
"I'm sixteen," I said.
"Ye gods, what are they—"
"—feeding kids these days," I finished. I held out my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir, my name is—"
"I know who you are. Kinda cheeky to go around calling yourself my sidekick, don't you think?" he challenged. He looked me over and shook his head. "'Prodigious Girl.' You're not big on irony, are you?"
I cleared my throat quietly. "Yeah, I'm sorry for not contacting you sooner. You're a hard man to reach."
"Uh huh," he said flatly. "So, hit me."
I looked at him, perplexed. "What, you mean like hit you, hit you—?" I said, holding up my fists uncertainly.
He rolled his eyes. "In your dreams. No, hit me with your little speech."
"Sorry?"
"You know the one. The one you've been rehearsing for this moment, to try and convince me to take you on. My advice? Make it good."
My mouth went dry and my head was still spinning from the earlier fight, the shrieker grenade...oh, and the concussion grenade... I blinked and shook my head as he looked at me impatiently. I tried to remember what I'd written.
"Um, ever since I was little—"
"Skip forward."
"Oh. Uh, when I got my powers—"
"More."
"The public trust—"
"Ugh, further."
"Um, so in conclusion, I just...really want to learn from an experienced hero," I said. "I really look up to you." I pressed my lips into a little pout, figuring it might help win the old man over.
Prodigy's eyes narrowed to slits and he walked right up to me and fixed me with a piercing gaze. "You mean you want me to give you my name when I die."
I was speechless. "I—I don't—" I stammered. Then I had a terrible thought. "Are you psychic?"
"No, but I'm not an idiot, either," he shot back. "A cute little piece of jailbait comes prancing along and cozies up to me, what the hell else would you be here for?"
"I'm not jailbait," I retorted indignantly.
"Don't contradict me, girl. You're whatever I say you are. If you don't like it, you can waggle your fat ass out of here and peddle your crap to some other hero."
"Fine," I grumbled. And my ass was not fat. Plump, maybe, but not fat. Jerk.
"What was that?"
"I said fine! God!" Ugh, less than five minutes with this guy and already I sounded like a whiny teenage girl.
"'Prodigy' will do," the old man said with a smirk. "Feh. 'Prodigy.' I never even wanted that name. I wanted something old school and heroic, like 'Dynamo' or 'Laser Lord.' Fucking registration system."
I nodded sympathetically.
He looked me up and down and shook his head. "Yeah, I'll pass. I don't need a kewpie doll."
"I don't know what that is, but I think I'm offended."
"And what makes you think I'd want to pass my mantle down to a skanky little mallrat like you, anyway?"
I hesitated. Prodigy came off as a grade A misogynist, so I didn't think my would-be mentor would react well to knowing that the girl he was barking insults at was actually a guy, so I figured I'd best keep that tidbit to myself.
"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't be a hero," I replied haughtily.
"Let me guess. You couldn't make the pep squad so you thought you'd try being a heroine to get the boys to notice you in your slutty little costume?"
"That is not why I want to be a superhero," I said emphatically. "And my costume is not slutty!" I added as I tugged at the hem of my miniskirt. "It's fashionable."
"Well when you walk into a hail of armor-piercing rounds tits first, you let me know how that fashion works out for you."
Oh, that's how it was going to be, huh? Well, fine, I decided. "I've done okay so far," I told him. "And you and I both know that we wouldn't even be having this conversation if you didn't think I had potential." I stood toe to toe with him and stared at him defiantly.
"You seriously want to throw down again?"
"If I have to."
"You've gotten your ass kicked twice today already, you sure you want to go for a third?"
"Day's just getting started, old man," I said.
He regarded me carefully and then broke into a tiny little smile. "All right. Come with me."
"W-what, you mean now?"
"Of course, now. You have better plans?"
I gave a little shrug. "Sleep. School." I wasn't very articulate, but I think I managed to convey the essence of my argument. "Sleep," I repeated.
"Welcome to the life of a superhero."
"Which won't last if I'm always getting detention for skipping class."
He grumbled. "Fine, this will only take a few hours. After that you can snuggle up with your boyfriend in homeroom and fall asleep in his arms."
"I don't have a boyfriend," I said through gritted teeth.
"Good. That was number seven on the questionnaire. C'mon."
I flew after him as he rappelled down into a nearby alley. I had to admit he was pretty athletic, but the thought of a guy that age fighting crime gave me pause. I'd had my butt kicked by those two street punks earlier that night, and even with my invulnerability and healing I knew I'd still feel the bruises for days. How the heck was Prodigy able to survive out there? He'd schooled me, certainly, but that was a sneak attack after I was already beat-up and distracted.
We reached the bottom of the alley and that was the first time I got to see the car. It was actually pretty cool. It was a small two-seater with sleek lines and painted a midnight blue that looked almost black.
"Neat," I said.
"I'm glad you approve," he said sarcastically. (Actually, dear Reader, maybe you can do me a favor. Anytime I say, "he said," just go ahead and mentally add the words, "sarcastically," "derisively," or "disapprovingly." It'll save me some time and my publisher assures me that I'm not being paid by the word.)
"So, what do you call it? Is it like the Prodigymobile, or something? Wait, that's dumb. Maybe like 'The Midnight.'"
He looked at me like I was an escaped mental patient. "I call it the car. Now get in the goddamn car."
I shut up and quietly slipped into the passenger seat. The inside of the car wasn't nearly as impressive as the outside, and what little there was of the back seat was cluttered with all kinds of equipment and junk I didn't recognize. The dashboard was almost unrecognizable...when I'd gotten in I was expecting to see something more like the cockpit of a fighter plane or at least some fake wood paneling, but instead it was haphazardly covered with knobs and switches, like a junior high science fair project run amok. I half expected my seat to be covered in fast food wrappers.
"What?" Prodigy snapped, obviously reading my face.
"Nothing," I responded quickly. Then, trying to make conversation, I offered, "Did you make all this yourself?" He didn't respond and just twisted around in his seat and rummaged around for something in back, so I quietly buckled my seat belt. "So, does it do things, like the Astromobile?"
He stopped and looked me in the face. "Let's get one thing straight. That asshole Arcturus is an asshole and a dilettante who even had the gall to install a wet bar in his car to help pick up superheroines."
I glanced away nervously.
"Oh, I bet you're wondering why I used the word 'asshole' twice," he said. "Do you want to be my sidekick?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Here's your first lesson. Arcturus is such a tremendous asshole that it is grammatically incorrect to refer to him without using the word 'asshole' at least twice in the same sentence. You got that?"
"Yes."
"You sure? You don't want a pen and paper to write it down?"
"I think I can remember."
"Good girl. Okay, look here."
"Look at wha—" I said as he held up a small device in front of my face. Suddenly there was a blinding flash. "AAAAHH! I can't see!"
"Yeah, that's kind of the point," he said as I heard him start the car.
"I'm blind!"
"Oh, relax, it'll wear off in a few minutes. Just long enough to get where we're going."
The streets of Faraday City were pretty empty at that hour of night, but there were apparently still enough cars on the road to piss Prodigy off—which as you may have surmised wasn't too hard to do—and he drove just a wee bit aggressively.
"Get off the road, you idiot!" he shouted as he swerved violently and I held on for dear life. Between the seat belt and my invulnerability I figured I'd probably survive a crash, but being totally blind on a terrifying roller coaster ride being operated by a madman...well, I was a little tense.
"Jesus Christ, does the word 'taxi' mean 'student driver' in your country?!?" he yelled as we went careening into another turn.
By the time we came screeching to a halt, my eyesight started to return, as promised. ("Though you may not be able to see the number six for ten or twelve hours," he informed me. "No idea why that is.") And as I climbed out of the car, I saw where he'd taken me.
It was...a garage. It was sizable and all the windows were blacked out so I had no idea where it was, but it was basically just a large messy mechanic's garage. At first I thought it might have been like a safe house or something, but as I looked around at all the tools and equipment I saw some cluttered work benches nearby that had bits and pieces of electronic devices scattered around that resembled the gadgets he'd used on me. On the floor and along the walls were various canisters covered with prominent warning labels that were strewn haphazardly about, and over in one corner I saw a large video screen wired into a tangle of cables that I assumed to be some kind of computer. As I watched, Prodigy approached it and dug a keyboard out of the mess of wires and started typing.
"I know, you're speechless," he said.
"It's magical," I deadpanned. "What is this, steampunk?"
"Missy, this is how the sausage gets made. Contrary to your experience, being a hero isn't all hair bows and lipstick."
"Well that's good, because I don't wear a hair b—hey!" I cried as Prodigy yanked hard on my hair. If I'd been a normal girl it probably would have hurt like hell, but my invulnerability was good for something.
"It's not a wig, if that's what you're trying to figure out," I said, fighting to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
"I know what a wig looks like," he said as he examined his empty fingers. "Good," he muttered, "no loose hairs. I don't want you dropping DNA evidence everywhere."
"DNA?"
"Don't you kids watch Law & Order anymore? Yes, genius. In case you hadn't noticed, we operate at crime scenes. The cops and pretty much everybody you fight will be cataloging your every sneeze."
"I thought we worked with the cops."
"Work with, not for. Big difference. And you should assume that any DNA you leave lying around could be planted later to frame you for a crime."
"That happens?"
"Drop by The Pen during visiting hours and ask Miss Justice what she thinks."
"Are you saying she was framed?" I knew that was a big story at the time, some kind of break-in gone bad with a couple dead guards. She'd vociferously professed her innocence, but there had been a public uproar about the dangers of heroes run amok. It was one of the big things that had led to the registration system.
"I'm saying she was sloppy so we'll probably never know. Hold still." He approached me with a hypodermic needle.
"What's that for?"
"Blood sample. I want a baseline before you do something stupid like getting infected with some Thallonian super-virus."
He held my arm still and I scoffed at the little needle. "Yeah, well, I hope you brought something bigger than—OW!" Unlike the hair pull earlier, that did hurt! I looked at him in bewilderment.
"Surgical micro laser built in," he explained as he drew the blood. "You're not the toughest person I've had to deal with." He withdrew the needle and paused to look at me. "What's your blood type, anyway?"
"A-positive, I think." I used to joke that it was proof of how awesome I was, but I hesitated when I realized that was my blood type as Chris. As Prodigious Girl I'd cobbled my look together from various girls in my school, and Caleb's jibes notwithstanding it did seem like I may have also inadvertently copied their own raging teenage hormones. It wasn't that big a jump to wonder if I may have changed my blood type in the process.
"Feh. That's no use to me," Prodigy grunted.
"For what?"
"Battlefield transfusion. My kingdom for a universal donor."
Based on his sour disposition I guessed his blood type was probably B-negative. (I'm here all week, folks.)
In point of fact, I wondered if my shapeshifting power might allow me to do just that, but it didn't seem wise to volunteer that as the more I saw of Prodigy the more certain I was that he didn't have my best interests at heart. I figured my nascent metamorphosis ability was something to keep as an ace up my sleeve and decided to keep it to myself at least until he proved himself trustworthy. And based on his misogynistic comments I wasn't in a hurry to out myself as a teenage guy in this girl's body...I doubted he'd be particularly open-minded or sympathetic to my plight. So as far as he was concerned, I was just another teenage superheroine.
"Okay, hop up on the table, drop your drawers, and put your feet in the stirrups," he said.
"WHAT?!?"
He made a jeering little laugh. "I'm just messing with you, princess. You seriously need to relax."
Over the next few hours, he ran me through a battery of tests and questions. The medical questions were okay and made sense once he explained that the purpose was to have a baseline health profile in case I was ever exposed to some bizarre alien spores or I ate one of Tinsel's famous choco-nut brownies and I had a peanut allergy. Although some of the questions did make me a bit uncomfortable. ("Are you on the pill?" "Ummm..." "When was the last time you had your period?" "UMMM...")
There were some psych profile questions in there as well, but where I got really nervous was with the biographical questions. I reluctantly told him some non-specific details like what part of town I lived in and what school I went to, but the questions started to get pretty pointed.
"Name," he said.
"Um...Prodigious Girl."
"No kidding. But unless your parents were unusually forward-thinking and had a weird sense of humor, I'm guessing that's not what they called you."
I crossed my arms. "I'm not telling you my secret identity."
"Listen, cupcake, if you applied for a minimum wage job at the mall selling bras you'd tell them more than that just to get the employee discount. You and I need to trust each other with our lives out there, and the time to start building that trust is now."
"Fine. You tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine."
"That crap may be how you score a peek at some horny boy's wiener, but just in case there's any question here, you need to prove yourself to me and not the other way around, sunshine. And around here, this is what the pyramid of trust looks like," he said, holding his hand at eye level. "Up here at the top of the pyramid, this is me." He held it there for a moment and then dropped his hand.
"That's not much of a pyramid."
"You're not much of a sidekick. Name?"
I locked eyes with him for a long moment. "Fine, but I'm only giving you my first name. You need to earn my trust, too."
He raised an eyebrow.
"It's..." I wasn't about to give him my real name, but I was so exhausted that my brain just shut down as I tried to think of any kind of alternative. I tried to think of the names of women in my life, and my sleep-deprived brain came back with: Mom, Grandma, and Mrs. Shapiro. Damn it, stupid good-for-nothing brain. My eyes darted around as I looked at objects in front of me and tried to form a girl's name: Computerella, Deskina, Wrenchie, Testy Oldman... Ugh, why was I always making important decisions when I was tired? Then my eyes fell on the car. "Car...Carly."
"Carly." He didn't sound convinced.
I nodded vigorously. "Yeah, just—just Carly. Not short for Caroline or anything."
His face was maddeningly inscrutable.
"Fine," he said as he pulled out his IntelliComm unit and pushed a button. My own I-Comm unit beeped in response. "There. Now we can contact each other. I've brought you to my private little hideaway and I even gave you a ride in my car. That enough of a trust-building exercise for one day?"
I sighed a little. Maybe this would work, after all. "Yeah," I smiled.
"Good. Now here, check this out."
I brightened up. "Sure, what is i—"
That's the last thing I saw before he blinded me again with that stupid device.
"Dammit!"
* * * * *
Prodigy packed me into the car again and—after another harrowing and profanity-laden drive—finally kicked me out not far from where he'd picked me up. My vision had started to return and through bleary eyes I saw him speed away as I heard the sounds of traffic in the distance. I was absolutely exhausted both physically and emotionally and I paused for a moment to take a deep cleansing breath as I admired the beautiful cloudless blue sky with the bright shining sun that hung low over the horizon.
But not low enough.
"Oh, crap," I swore as I checked the time.
I arrived at school a full forty minutes late and even my first period teacher was impressed by my gall as she directed me to the Principal's office to get a tardy slip. I'd never even gotten a tardy slip before and I didn't even know what the process was, so I was told to take a seat while they got to me. But as I sat there surrounded by the school's usual ruffians, scalawags, and undesirables, it struck me how sheltered my life had been. And now here I was, lumped in with the bad crowd. Forever branded as a renegade and malcontent. A rebel with his first tardy slip.
A few seats away a couple bullies were talking to each other. I recognized one of them as Ashton Raleigh, a mouth breather who had even terrorized me on a few occasions. Ever since I'd gotten my powers I'd harbored a secret fantasy that he'd try something and I'd get some sweet revenge. Ash came from money and had a chip on his shoulder that even my super-strength couldn't lift. His parents decided to send him to public school as a character-building exercise, for which his victims—myself included—remained eternally grateful. The guy sitting next to him was Wade McGrath, who was never far from Ash's side and whose primary purpose in life seemed to be Ash's yes-man, a skill that would doubtless serve him well in later life.
"It's horse shit, it what it is," Ash said to Wade.
"Language, Mr. Raleigh," the secretary said imperiously.
Ash glared at her but lowered his voice. "Weeks of work, wasted! And then Tits McGee is all like, 'Ooh, well at least they're in jail, that's the important thing.' Man, if her boobs were brains she'd be a rocket scientist."
My bag slipped out of my numb fingers.
Ash and Wade looked in my direction. "Fuck are you looking at, Patterson?"
"Language!"
I stared at them wide-eyed. "N-nothing," I stammered as I fumbled with my bag and dropped it again, spilling my books on the floor. They both scoffed and quietly returned to their conversation as I kept sneaking glances at the two of them.
That afternoon after school Caleb and I went to his house and we went up to his room, closed the door, and I told him everything. The big fight at the warehouse. Meeting Prodigy. Learning that Blaze and Triggerhappy were really Ash and Wade.
He sat quietly through it and waited for me to finish. When I was done, I looked at him and waited for a reaction.
"Let me get this straight," he said after a moment. "You told him your name was Carly?" he said, laughing.
"That's that part that surprises you?"
"Oh, my God, that's hilarious," he laughed. "And yeah, I kinda always kinda pegged Ash as some kind of evil supervillain type. Or maybe he just acts like an asshole in real life as a cover for being a hero."
"I'm pretty sure it's the other way around."
"Well, you'll probably won't be teaming up with him now that you're hooked up with Prodigy, right?" he pointed out. "So, you think the old man'll give you his name?"
"I dunno. I don't think I've got any other competition, at least."
"How's he seem health wise? Guy that old has to have arthritis or a goiter or something."
"He seemed pretty spry. With my luck he'll last another twenty years."
"Maybe Methuselah will break a hip or something. Fingers crossed," he said. "Do you think he'll let you drive the car, at least? You told him you were sixteen, right?"
"He said it wasn't a question of my age. He said it was an issue of demonstrating a mastery of simian proctological avionics."
Caleb's brow furrowed. "So he'll let you drive the car when monkeys fly out of your butt?"
"Pretty much."
"Does the car do anything cool, at least?"
"Not sure. It's packed to the gills with all this crap he made himself, but it all looks like junk."
He nodded and considered that. "Well, maybe he at least has a handicapped tag to get a good parking space."
* * * * *
I was in History class when my cell phone beeped. I'd linked it wirelessly with my I-Comm hero communicator so it wouldn't look strange when I got messages, and from the ring tone I'd chosen I knew that Prodigious Girl had received an incoming message. My teacher shot me a dirty look as I scrambled to silence the device, but as I read the message I knew there were bigger problems than Attila's invasion of the Sassanid Empire. (I imagine the Sassanids might disagree with me on that point, but you get the idea.)
Fortunately my next period was lunch, and I grabbed Caleb and yanked him out of the lunch line. "Dude, I need your help!" I whispered.
He pointed back at the line. "But...today's mac and cheese."
"It's an emergency!" I said quietly but emphatically as our classmate Roger Alvarez paused to look at us. He was a swell guy, but very nosy. But when Caleb continued to stare at me blankly, I leaned close and whispered, "This looks like a job for..."
"Oh. OH!" he said as his eyes went wide. "Y'know, we really need to establish some kind of code word for that. Like, Jell-O, or grilled cheese, or tater tots..." he said, eyeing the lunch counter. "Wow, they have tater tots today, too?"
"Caleb!"
"Right! Okay, I'm with you. What's up?"
I dragged him off to the side and showed him the message. "Prodigy is sending a car over to pick me up right after school!"
"Okay. So?"
"Not me as Prodigious Girl," I hissed. "Me!"
"I thought he didn't know you were really a guy?"
"He doesn't!"
"Ooh. Awkward."
I grabbed him by the arm. "Look, I need you to run home and get some of your sister's clothes. I'll change into PG and put on the clothes, and then I'll leave with the crowd like I'm just another girl at school."
"Why me? Why can't you just whoosh on home and get your mom's clothes?" he said as he made a swooping motion with his hand.
"My mom's been working at home, remember? She'd hear me come in. And you live close to school. Besides, I've got a Trig test next period."
"Yeah, well, I've got important stuff going on, too, y'know!"
"Such as?"
"I've got Home Ec next period." When I shot him a look he added, "They're making brownies today!"
"Would you quit thinking with your stomach?"
"I'm not! Lauren Becker makes the world's most ghastly brownies. I've arranged for us to be partners, and I'm thinking she's going to need some consoling afterward," he said as he flashed his eyebrows.
"Caleb!"
"Oh, all right," he groaned. "Y'know, when I agreed to help you with this I never imagined myself cutting class to go rummage through my sister's clothes so my friend would have something pretty to wear for his after-school dates."
"It's a magical experience for me, too."
"Hey, I fully support your dream of being a superhero. But I have my own dreams!"
"Caleb, I really don't have time for this."
"Oh, that's nice. What kind of superhero are you that you can't make time to support someone's dreams?"
"Ugh, fine," I grumbled. "What's your dream?"
"I think the supportiveness would seem more genuine without the eye rolling."
I glared at him impatiently.
"Okay! My dream"—he paused for dramatic effect—"is to someday help save the city—"
"That's very noble," I nodded as I started to leave.
"—and also to hang out with cute teenage superheroines," he added. "Hey, you're rolling your eyes again."
We arranged to meet at a unisex bathroom on the far side of the school that was seldom used and its proximity to the teachers' lounge made it an unlikely hangout for anybody else who might be cutting class. I was starting to get nervous when Caleb finally showed up carrying a backpack.
"Okay, that was beyond creepy," he said as he handed me the bag and we ducked inside the bathroom. The designers apparently couldn't decide whether it was for a single occupant or not as it was fairly spacious for one person and inexplicably had a single toilet stall designed for handicapped access. I wasn't sure why a single-person bathroom also needed a stall, but right now I wasn't complaining.
Caleb then volunteered, "I got you a few outfits I think you could fit into. I also got you some shoes and stuff."
"Good thinking," I said as I dug through the bag. The first thing I pulled out was a short little bubblegum pink spring dress covered in white flowers. I held it up accusingly. "Caleb, I'm not a flower girl at a wedding!"
"Well I couldn't very well steal clothes that she wears every day!" he objected. "I had to take things I didn't think she'd miss."
"Great," I muttered as I locked myself into the toilet stall and hoped that his other choices were better. I took off my clothes and shapeshifted into my Prodigious Girl form and continued going through the bag. It wasn't long before I realized I had another problem.
I opened the door a crack and peeked outside the stall. "Hey," I whispered.
His face lit up as he saw me. "Holy cow, are you naked like that?" he grinned. "C'mon out, I want to see."
"Shut up, you perv!" I told him. "Where's the underwear?"
"I didn't get any."
"What?"
"Dude, I wasn't about to go rummaging around in my sister's panty drawer! Just wear your guy underwear."
"Okay, but what about...up top?"
He looked at me incredulously. "Oh, sure, like you'd be able to fit into anything that Lori wears. Just make do."
I made a little grumble and ducked back inside. After a couple minutes I found a plain light yellow T-shirt I was able to squeeze into and a short skirt. There were two pairs of high heels that I didn't want to chance, but there were some low-heeled sandals that seemed to work. However, I was enormously self-conscious about my bosom, which the shirt clung to like a second skin.
"So, how's this look?" I said as I opened the door.
At first Caleb was all smiles, but as I fully emerged and he got a good look at me, his eyes went wide in shock and he quickly looked down at the floor and shielded his eyes with his hand. "Okay! That—that is not gonna work!" he stammered.
"Why? What is it? What's wrong?" I'd never seen him like that and it kind of threw me.
"You are really—out there!"
Puzzled, I turned to check my reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the comically shocked expression on my girl's face matched Caleb's almost perfectly. The shirt was much too small for me and between the thin clingy material and light color of the fabric, it wasn't hiding anything and it was really obvious I wasn't wearing a bra. I instinctively crossed my hands over my bosom and ducked back into the stall.
"I'll try the dress!"
"Yep! Good idea. You do that. Try the dress."
A few minutes later I sheepishly emerged and Caleb peeked at me through his fingers. But slowly he lowered his hands as he got a good look at me. "That's not bad..." he offered.
As I looked at my reflection, I didn't much agree but at least the floral pattern was preventing me from violating any decency laws. The dress was short and flirty and showed a lot of leg and the clingy top put my breasts on prominent display, but it had a high neckline so at least I wasn't flashing my cleavage for a change. I thought the whole thing looked entirely too girly for something a real girl would wear to school, but I didn't have a lot of choice.
"Here," Caleb said as he retrieved an item from another pocket of the backpack. "Put this on. I found it with our Halloween stuff."
He handed me a long golden-blonde wig with hair that was nearly as long as the black hair I had as Prodigious Girl. "What's this for?" I asked.
"Well, he's expecting to see you in your secret identity, right? I figured if you were a real girl, you might wear this so you'd look different."
"Oh. Good idea." I nodded and fussed with my hair, trying to get it all under the cap of the wig. After a minute, I stood up straight and gave the hair of my wig a little toss as I turned to look at him. "How's this look?"
His expression was one of pure awe. "I was wrong," he said. "We definitely should have made you a blonde."
I made a little face, but as I turned to look at the mirror, I had to admit the effect was striking. Between the blonde hair and the flirty flowered dress, I didn't look much like Prodigious Girl at all.
"I look like a Barbie doll," I grumped.
"Yeah, well, it's a good look on you," Caleb said admiringly.
Just then the final bell rang, so I gathered up my bag and looked at him. "I gotta run. Thanks."
"Sure thing. Though if you're feeling appreciative, feel free to put a little extra wiggle in your walk when you go down the hall."
"Perv," I said, giving him a little smile as I headed out the door.
By the time I got outside there was already a mass of students milling around and chatting with friends. I did my best to blend in with the crowd but I soon discovered that looking as I did it seemed like "unobtrusive" wasn't going to be in the cards, especially without a bra to restrain my sprightly bosom. Several guys nudged their friends and stopped to check me out when they spotted me, and a couple cliques of girls gave me dirty looks as I walked past and I distinctly heard the word "slut." Blushing furiously, I reached across my chest with my arm to clutch at the strap of my backpack with both hands and attempted to discreetly control the bouncing of my unrestrained breasts.
I pushed forward and tried to ignore the looks of everyone around me as I walked towards the cars and wondered what it was I was supposed to be looking for. Then, conspicuous amongst the line of cars, I spotted a taxi and wandered closer. The cab seemed unremarkable, so I bent over at the passenger window and felt acutely aware how the maneuver caused me to present my boobs to the driver. At least with the high neckline I wasn't showing off a yard of cleavage, but given the shortness of my skirt, I suddenly realized that it was quite probable that I was giving the people behind me a show.
"Hi, I'm...Carly?" I said.
"Get in," the guy said with a leer.
As I slipped in the back of the cab I felt strangely vulnerable in my outfit, which was an unusual feeling for me. I could easily tear the door off the car and if the driver tried anything he was definitely in for the fight of his life. But as I sat there in my little dress and absently played with the blonde hairs of my wig, I felt weirdly self-conscious. It was one thing to be a superhero, but it felt weird to pretend I was just an ordinary girl. For once I found myself looking forward to being in my form-fitting costume as Prodigious Girl, especially since the cabbie seemed determined to hit every single bump and pothole on the road and it was causing parts of my body to become quite frolicsome.
When the cab finally stopped I noticed that we were in a run-down part of town. There was almost nobody on the street, and the few people that I could see were definitely not the sorts of characters I'd have wanted to meet before I got my powers. And it was clear that somebody who looked like I did was definitely going to be out of place. The cabbie seemed to notice it, too.
"You sure you wanna get out here?" the guy asked as he looked at me in the rear-view mirror. I don't think it was my imagination that it was angled to get a view lower than my face.
"Less and less," I muttered as I looked up and down the street and gathered up my bag.
"Well, if you wanna go anyplace else, it'll cost ya. This is as far as I got paid for."
I climbed out and as I shut the door the taxi sped off quickly. I can't say I blamed him. Unsure what to do, I stood there and waited for Prodigy to show up or something to happen, but after a few minutes of nervously plucking at my skirt I gathered that the next move was supposed to be mine. I noticed that some guys were walking down the sidewalk in my direction so I headed off the opposite way as I considered my options but I hadn't taken ten steps before I saw a few other guys walking towards me from the other way, too. They didn't look like they were spoiling for a fight, but dressed as I was I felt sure I was in for some trouble. Was that Prodigy's game? To see how I'd handle myself without blowing my secret identity?
Then I noticed a familiar sound, a low electric thrumming noise that I'd heard before. I turned to orient myself and positioned myself so that it came from off to my left and found myself facing a nondescript building that looked abandoned. With both sets of guys getting closer and now nudging each other and laughing as they spotted me, I took a chance and went inside.
The door was heavier than it looked and the dim room had a musty odor that was mixed with machine oil. As the door swung shut behind me, it did so silently until it clicked shut with a solid noise that belied its derelict facade.
"Took you long enough," Prodigy growled from inside the garage. "I thought you were going to start trolling for johns out there."
"You could have just sent me the address."
"Yeah, I could, except that you flying up to the front door all tits and miniskirts isn't exactly conducive to maintaining a secret location. Though I have to admit I also didn't expect you to come dressed like you were going to a garden party at the country club. This is what you wear to school every day?"
"It's laundry day. It was down to either this or my footie pajamas with the kittens."
"Yeah, well, suit up, 'cause it's time to see what you can do."
My tutelage under Prodigy's watchful eye was...awkward. And painful. "Seeing what I was capable of" was apparently a euphemism for "agonizing discovery of how much punishment I could endure, both physically and psychologically." I tried to follow his lead, but pretty quickly we fell into a pattern. I'd go in and get the villain's attention, he'd hang back while I took my lumps, and if I was lucky he'd outflank the bad guy and take him down. If I wasn't so lucky, his gadgets would fritz out, leaving me to get pummeled while he worked out a Plan B.
I confess that after a while of this, I may have started to get just the tiniest bit snarky. (Hard to believe, I know.)
* * * * *
Prodigy got word of a silent alarm that was striggered at a bank and we quickly responded and were apparently the first ones on the scene. I didn't hear anything unusual coming from inside, but we quietly entered to see the telltale signs of destruction as someone had obviously done some damage on the way in. For a moment I thought we might have been too late until I noticed a few of the bank employees lying on the ground and making insistent glances towards the vault as they saw us enter.
We made our way over to the vault and heard someone arguing inside. But as I turned the corner to block the entrance and I saw them, I rolled my eyes. Inside was a blonde in a skimpy metal armored bikini with a figure that put mine to shame, a villainess who called herself Nymphobrainiac. I didn't remember much about her except that she was neither as stupid nor as smart as her name might suggest. And right next to her inside the vault was her poodle. (And no, that's not an autocorrect mistake for "powerhouse" or anything. You read it right the first time. Poodle.)
"Shut up, I know what I'm doing," she said to the dog. "I need to find the diamonds so that I can improve the processing on the optical—"
I laughed. "Let me get this straight. You bring your dog with you on heists so you can make yourself feel smart when you explain things to her?"
She turned to look at me and glanced at Prodigy. "Why not? That's why he brings you."
"Hey!"
"She's not wrong," Prodigy said.
"HEY!"
She quickly unholstered a weird-looking gun and shot at us, and the energized particle beam made a dangerous-sounding hiss as it vaporized the air next to my head. I quickly ducked for cover outside the vault.
"She's got a gun!" I yelled.
"Of course she's got a gun! How did you not see it?" Prodigy snapped.
"I don't know, her butt's like a mile wide!"
"I heard that!" she yelled from inside the vault as two more shots sizzled past and disintegrated a nearby desk chair.
"Okay, screw this. I've got miss sassy pants, you take Fifi," I said as I dove headlong into the vault. I hadn't taken two steps before the poodle was on top of me, practically foaming at the mouth. Unfortunately for me it was a lot stronger than it looked and the impact of its charge slammed me against the wall of the vault with such force that I saw stars. The dog then bit my arm hard enough to draw blood—despite my supposedly invulnerable skin!—and I cried out in pain.
"Get out of the way, idiot!" I heard Nymphobrainiac yell as she tried to aim at me without hitting the dog. Another shot sizzled inches over my head.
"Or what the hell, I can get both of them!" I yelled, wondering what was keeping the old man. "Why don't you just go take some Metamucil and fall asleep in front of the Weather Channel!"
I tried to grab on to the dog's muzzle to pry it loose, but it shook its head violently and I lost my grip. "AAAHHH!" I screamed as it bit down harder.
"Okay, I hope the ASPCA doesn't find out about this!" I yelled as I slammed the dog against the wall with enough force to dent the metal. But out of the corner of my eye I saw the dog's mistress lining up a shot and I knew she had me dead to rights.
Just then there was the soft tapping sound of metal on metal and a small sphere rolled into the vault.
Not sure what to do, I ducked down, closed my eyes and braced myself as I held up my arm to shield myself with the only object I had: the poodle that had established a death grip on my forearm. It wasn't exactly an indestructible star-spangled vibranium shield, but it seemed able to take a punch.
The explosion proved to be more light and sound than actual damage, but fortunately my improvised poodle shield took the brunt of the attack. Nymphobrainiac, however, was temporarily blinded and took a wild shot in my direction that nailed Fluffy right in the back. The dog howled with pain and finally let go of me as it collapsed in a heap on the floor.
I took the opportunity to duck outside the vault to regroup, and as I did so I shot an angry look at my mentor. "Glad to see you decided to join in."
"Her gun only has five shots, genius," he shot back.
"Shit!" we heard from inside the vault as Nymphobrainiac realized she was empty.
"Oh. Oops," I said, realizing I'd jumped the gun, literally. "Okay, so what else can she—OOOFF!" I barely had time to react as a speeding blonde missile slammed into me, apparently every bit as strong and fast as her pooch was. We went sailing into the bank and crashed into the teller stations.
"She's also really strong," Prodigy deadpanned.
"Got that! Thanks!" I called as she slugged me with enough force to heft a Buick, but fortunately I was prepared for it this time and managed to stand my ground. I looked at her skimpy metal bikini "armor" and decided to pull my punch as I returned the blow to her unprotected solar plexus, fearing I might shatter her bones if I wasn't careful.
Her teasing smirk told me I needn't have worried. "So now we've established that you hit like a girl," she said.
I took the kid gloves off and the two of us smashed at each other in earnest and we grappled and destroyed furniture as we rolled around on the floor of the bank. At one point she had her hands around my throat and was choking me as I desperately tried to break her grip, and we were both momentarily startled by a sudden flash of light off to one side.
Still locked in our hold, we stopped and turned to see a middle-aged guy standing there. We looked at him in confusion and he held up his camera and said, "Hey, any chance you gals could do a little more hair pulling?"
Nymphobrainiac and I locked eyes in disbelief and I used the momentary distraction to punch her in the gut hard enough to not only break her hold but also to cause her to rebound off of the ceiling. I scrambled to my feet to follow up with another blow, but instead I found myself confronted with the business end of one seriously pissed-off poodle.
"Oh, come on!" I cried as I struggled to hold the dog's viciously snapping jaws away from my face. Nymphobrainiac started to make a move so I flew over to her, catching her off guard as she apparently didn't realize I could fly. I grabbed her forcefully around the neck with my free hand but as my muscles strained I knew I couldn't hold both of them like that for long. Then I spotted Prodigy out of the corner of my eye and noticed a silver leash on the ground, still attached to the dog's collar.
"Ab-gray the eash-lay!" I yelled to him, figuring the dog might be smart enough to recognize the word "leash."
The dog backed off its assault just slightly to peer on the ground and then used one of its paws to drag the leash closer, out of Prodigy's reach.
Its mistress then took the opportunity to kick me in the gut, which hurt like hell and sent me flying back twenty feet before I crashed into another wall. I sat up and stared at her incredulously. "Your dog speaks Pig Latin?"
"You'd be smart not to underestimate Tiara. Or me, for that matter," she said with a confident smile. But before she could take a step, another metal sphere landed by her feet. "Oh, please. Not this ag—AAAAHHHH!!!"
I watched as a brilliant flash of electrical blue energy erupted from the sphere, causing both her and her dog to cry out in agony for several seconds before they collapsed unconscious to the floor.
Still sitting on the floor amid the rubble, I turned to look at Prodigy as I tried to figure out what just happened.
"You are such a disappointment," he growled.
The ride back to his hideout was quiet and you could cut the tension with a knife. (So, pretty much like every other ride, basically.)
"So, uh, what was that you hit them with?" I asked tentatively.
Prodigy made a guttural noise, obviously debating whether or not to grace me with an answer. "Biomimetic energy pulse. It triggered a cascading feedback surge in their bio-armor."
"They were wearing armor? Even the poodle?"
He sniffed. "I forgot your knowledge of metahumans is limited to fashion. Maybe if I'd asked what color lip gloss she was wearing you'd have known that."
"Okay, so I didn't know much about them," I conceded. Then, trying to reclaim the moral high ground, I said, "Besides, if you knew that energy thingy would do that to them, why didn't you just lead with that instead of letting me get my ass kicked?"
"Because that 'thingy,' as you call it, takes a minute to charge, Prodigious Girl," he said with a sneer. (I hated when he called me by my name because he only ever used it ironically when I'd done something stupid.) "I'd planned to just fall back to charge it and then hit them while they were still distracted in the vault, but then someone had the bright idea to announce our presence by taunting them."
Abashed, I sat there stunned. "Oh."
"I'd have been better off teaming up with the poodle," he muttered.
* * * * *
We soon arrived back at the garage and he busied himself with something on the computer while I looked around. He always hated it when I touched anything but he'd at least deigned to answer some of my questions, which I guessed counted for something. Much of the equipment and such was beyond me, but there were a few interesting things here and there that caught my attention.
"What's this?" I asked as I picked up an alien-looking device. It looked like it might be something like a walkie-talkie since it had a friendly-looking button placed prominently on the front and had what looked like an antenna with a small dish on the end.
Prodigy gave an irritated look in my direction but then froze wide-eyed as he recognized the device in my hand. "I want you to put that down very slowly and very, very carefully," he said evenly as he stared at it in what looked like mortal terror.
I looked down in alarm. "Why? What is it?"
"It's a Fractalline Neutrino Separator. And unless you intend to blow a basketball-sized hole in my chest—because that's where you're aiming it right now—I suggest you put it down. Gently."
Nervously, I delicately placed the device back on the shelf, and Prodigy visibly relaxed. At least briefly.
"I said don't touch anything," he snapped.
"Yeah, well, maybe don't leave your dangerous Fig Newton doohickeys lying around, then," I said as he returned his attention to what he'd been working on.
Bored, I wandered around the rest of the cluttered space looking here and there. "What are these things?" I asked as I peered into a reinforced terrarium and tapped on the glass. Inside were some bizarre sluglike creatures I’d never seen before.
This time he didn't even look up. "Kalothian genital parasites," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
I blinked and turned to look at him. "Come again?"
"They're alien parasites that burrow into a host's genitals where they gestate until they come bursting out."
I moved my hand away from the glass. "Y-you're making that up." But as he faced me and maintained his stare, I wasn't so sure. "Why do you have five of them?" I asked.
"Because you never know when you might need five."
"I know I wouldn't," I said as I tried to imagine such a situation.
He seemed to revel in being a curmudgeon and I think he viewed it as a challenge to find ways to squick me out or make me feel uncomfortable, especially since I appeared to be a teenage girl. To get him back, I tried to find ways to make light of his attempts. That's how a few weeks later following a smartass comment on my part I came to be responsible for feeding the alien genital parasites.
I opened the top of their cage and shook some fish flakes into their habitat. The little guys were crazy for them.
"Wow, Zeppo, you're getting big!" I said. "Hey, Chico, don't be greedy, leave some for Gummo."
Prodigy paused what he was doing to look at me. "You named them after the Marx brothers?"
"Yeah, I wanted to choose names I thought you'd recognize. But if you'd prefer, we could go with your favorite periods from your youth: Cretaceous, Jurassic, Triassic..."
"Uh huh. Speaking of prodigious asses, is there some reason you think I won't toss you out on yours?"
"Yeah, well, the capaciousness of my rear end notwithstanding, I've noticed you don't complain about it when it gives you something to hide behind when the shooting starts."
"Okay, then," he nodded as he retrieved a small data pad and handed it to me. "Here's some homework for you that'll keep you resting on your tail for a while."
"What's this?"
"Comprehensive dossiers on all known metahumans."
I turned on the pad and thumbed through the entries. There were entries on lots of villains I'd heard about and many more that I hadn't. Caleb would probably go nuts for this, I thought. But as I skimmed through it, I noticed something else.
"There are heroes in here, too."
"Of course there are. One of them goes woolly or gets mind controlled, you'll want to know their soft spots."
"Where are you getting this from? I mean villains are one thing, but heroes don't exactly—"
"I hacked the superhero registration database."
I looked at him in shock. "You..."
"Get over it, girl. We need an edge, and you're holding it."
I glanced down at the pad and then back at him. "So what am I supposed to do with this?"
"Memorize it."
"WHAT?" I cried. "That's not fair! There's gotta be hundreds of entries!"
"And more every day, princess. Fighting crime isn't just about punching out the bad guys' lights, it's about being ready for them. Knowing their strengths and weaknesses."
Crap, that actually made a lot of sense. But I had a good whine going and I wasn't about to give it up.
"I have to memorize all of them?"
"Oh, please. Half of them did your work for you just with their name. Like Icicle...what do you think her powers are?"
I shrugged. "Ice powers?"
"Right. And she's vulnerable to—?"
"Heat, I'm guessing?"
"Exactly. People are morons, and super-people even more so. They get to call themselves literally anything in the world and they choose names that give away their weaknesses. Like that Flashback cretin."
"What's wrong with that? That's a cool name."
"See, that's the problem with you kids. You're so fixated on how it makes you look you don't even stop to realize you're unzipping your fly. Because now he just tipped his hand that he's a combat precog who's able to jump back in time five seconds at a time, so now I can plan ways to beat him. If he'd just called himself Surefire or Master Marksman I might have just assumed he was just a really good shot, but instead the fool gave up his biggest advantage for a name that sounded cool."
He turned away and ignored me again, but as I thought about what he'd said, I had to admit that he had a point. All of a sudden the idea of naming myself "Prodigious Girl" and withholding knowledge of my shapeshifting power seemed like really good thinking on my part. On the other hand, I thought about the crap I was enduring just to get a cooler name and realized it might be a little presumptuous of me to pat myself on my bra strap.
* * * * *
My pairing with Prodigy also had other complications. Sometimes he'd signal me to meet him somewhere, but all too often he wanted me to come straight after school to the garage "discreetly"...in other words, as Carly. As a result, after my first visit I quickly realized that "Carly" would need other outfits, to say nothing of proper undergarments.
I wasn't sure what sizes I wore so I quickly realized I couldn't do my shopping as Chris, nor could I just swoop in to the store wearing my costume, cape fluttering in the breeze. And so it was that I found myself at home late one night in my Prodigious Girl body sneaking into our laundry room to rummage through Mom's clothes for an outfit that I could wear to go shopping. Understand, I had no problem standing toe-to-toe against a death squad of voracious Reptilicons, but rifling through my mom's laundry and trying on her yoga pants went beyond the call of duty.
Once I'd found something less obtrusive to wear than the flowered dress Caleb snitched from his sister, I put on my blonde wig and made for a 24-hour big box superstore to buy some clothes and underwear for myself as Carly. But if I'd harbored any notion that my experiences running around as Prodigious Girl and getting gawked at in a skintight outfit would make this any easier, I was sorely mistaken. My occasionally-female body notwithstanding, my knowledge of girls was limited, and browsing through the selection of unmentionables in the store to find something to fit my "heroic" physique gave me the jeebies. And one of the women heading into the changing area definitely threw some shade my way when she saw how I was filling out my T-shirt and mentioned "implants" to her smirking friend.
Rescue came in the form of a matronly woman named Doreen who was restocking the shelves nearby and caught me surreptitiously holding a bra up to my chest as I tried to eyeball it for fit. She volunteered to help me and soon aided me in navigating the treacherous and uncertain waters of the Misses department. She retrieved a cloth measuring tape and measured me properly while she grilled me about the boys I was dating, and she happily provided me her grandson's number after I informed her that I was single. (And no, I'm not going to tell you Prodigious Girl's measurements, though I suspect they're already part of the public record.) Suffice to say that although the selection was limited for someone with my voluptuous...ness, I managed to walk out with a half-dozen bras and panties in a few different colors, along with the beginnings of a small casual wardrobe that I figured wouldn't cause Prodigy to be too suspicious. (I also walked out with a shocking new understanding of what girls' clothes cost! I had no idea!)
Oh, and the efforts I would later go through to wash my new clothes were something else entirely, since I could hardly just toss them in my laundry hamper. One night I'd foolishly hung my wig and feminine undergarments to dry in the bathroom and I nearly had a heart attack the next morning in my mad rush to retrieve them before Mom spotted them.
Apparently, maintaining a secret identity is a lot like being a character in a sitcom.
* * * * *
I decided I needed to talk to Trixie and she asked me to meet her on the outskirts of town near the ruins of what used to be a botanical garden. This was a favorite hangout for some of the plant-themed supervillains, so I wasn't surprised when I spotted her standing outside a large overgrown hedge maze. She gave me a friendly wave as I landed.
"Is this a bad time?" I asked, glancing around. "I wanted to talk about something."
"This should only take a minute. Quick pick-up," she said, pointing towards the maze with her thumb.
"You want me to just fly us over it and go straight to the middle?"
"No, it'll be faster if we just go through. It's Red Herring," she said with a semi-apologetic shrug before heading into the maze. I wanted to get her opinion of my troubles with Prodigy but wasn't quite sure where to begin, so we walked in silence for a bit and Trixie admired the overgrown greenery.
"Hm," she said.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how this reminds me a bit of the jungles from when I was growing up in Cambodia. We moved there from London—"
"I'm not falling for it, Trixie."
She gave me a sly grin and snapped her fingers. "Rats." Then she seemed to notice how preoccupied I was. "What's on your mind?"
I moved my hands in little circles, looking for the right words. "It's my mentor," I sighed. "He's a dick." (As you may have surmised by now, Keats and Shelley have nothing to fear from me.)
She snickered. "So pick a new one? It's like swapping your major in college. No biggie."
"I know, but I'm kind of committed. I—"
"HA HA HA!" a voice boomed on a loudspeaker. "You have fallen into my trap!"
"What trap?" Trixie shouted. "You texted me, remember?"
There was a pause. "Be that as it may!" Red Herring responded. "Now you must choose! Do you go left or right? Either way leads to your DOOOOM!"
I looked at Trixie and shrugged, but she just shook her head. "Give it a second," she said.
From down the right path, we heard a woman's desperate cries for help. I couldn't see her, but I reflexively tensed up and was about to fly off to investigate when Trixie started trudging off in the opposite direction.
"Ooh, I get it," I said as I followed after her.
"W-wait. Where are you going?" Red Herring said uncertainly over the loudspeaker. "That woman is in danger, you have to rescue her!"
"Uh huh," Trixie responded, then looked over at me. "So, you can't make it work with this guy?"
"I dunno. I just feel like I'm doing all the work, y'know? He's not teaching me anything and I keep getting the crap pounded out of me."
We came to another junction when suddenly a wall of flame burst into existence, blocking one of the paths. The other path stood clear. We walked right up to the flames and straight on through them, revealing them to be a harmless hologram.
"The wanker doesn't even use a real flamethrower," she muttered. "Okay, so you're a glutton for punishment, but that doesn't explain why he's keeping you around. Maybe he sees something in you and this is all just a big test to prove your commitment?"
"Maybe," I said as we came to another junction and a pair of machine guns opened fire down one of the paths. I'd gotten so used to being shot that I didn't react, but to her credit Trixie didn't flinch either, revealing them to be filled with blanks. We casually walked towards the guns as they continued to fire.
"You know you're more than welcome to join up with us, if you want!" Trixie shouted over the noise. "I'm sure Demetria wouldn't mind taking on one more!"
"Nah, I'll make it work!" I shouted back as we passed the guns. "I probably just—huh." We rounded the corner and came to a dead end in the maze.
"Ha ha! Not so clever after all!" Red Herring's voice sounded. "You won't find me that easily!"
Trixie rubbed the bridge of her nose and listlessly examined the area as I looked above us and nudged her to point out the blimp flying overhead. She rolled her eyes.
"Do you mind?" she asked.
"Sure."
She took a step back and I bent down and punched a hole in the ground and yanked back a piece of reinforced concrete covered with sod that was the size of a four door sedan. I casually tossed it back down the maze and we peered down into the hole to see Red Herring sitting at a control panel, staring up at us in shock.
"I might be Red Herring's identical twin that I've framed for his crimes," he offered.
"I'm willing to risk it," Trixie said.
We dropped him off with the authorities and while Trixie handled the paperwork, I found myself getting more preoccupied with her question...why was Prodigy keeping me around?
"Hey, space case," Trixie said, snapping her fingers in front of my face and jolting me out of my reverie. "Okay, now don't be mad at me, but I just made a quick call and Demetria really wants to meet you."
"Trixie—"
"You don't have to join! Just think of it like a mixer where you get to meet other heroes. And there is something I've been dying to tell you about."
"So just tell me?"
"I made a promise that I wouldn't. But trust me, it'll be worth it. Please?"
"Is it far? I gotta get home soon."
She just smiled. "That is the best part."
Trixie had a smug little grin on her face as she pulled back her glove to reveal her I-Comm device. But rather than calling somebody, she entered in a sequence that I recognized as a passcode for accessing her "warp locker." A moment later, the portal opened and I saw the contents of her small warp space storage, which was packed with a haphazard mishmash of books and clothes.
"Oops!" she cried, embarrassed, as she re-keyed the code. "Sorry, I kinda live out of that thing. It's handy."
"Yeah, you should see mine," I said. In addition to using it for Prodigious Girl's paraphernalia, I also used it for schoolbooks and such and I'd even managed to cram a spare outfit to wear as Carly in there in case Prodigy sprung a last-minute meet-up on for my supposedly civilian guise. My female identities were fast starting to eclipse my male identity, and I wished I could afford a bigger warp locker to hold all the stuff. Unfortunately while the small base unit was free to registered heroes, anything more spacious cost a lot more.
Trixie's warp portal closed and re-opened, and my eyes bugged out as she showed me what was inside.
"Holy cow!" I said as I peered into the portal. The room inside—and it was a room!—was pristine and the size of a walk-in closet. As Trixie walked inside, I asked, "How the heck can you afford something like this?"
"Come on," she grinned as she beckoned for me to enter after her.
I did so, hesitantly. One of the biggest warnings that came with the warp space storage had to do with the fact that it had no atmospheric recycling, meaning that once the portal closed, whatever air was in there would quickly run out. There were urban legends of heroes who had locked themselves or their pets inside their storage space and suffocated. It looked like Trixie's new space was big enough to sustain a couple of people for a good while, but it made me uneasy, especially as she closed the portal behind us.
"Um..." I said.
"Relax," she said as she punched in a new code. And once the portal opened again, she stepped outside and I followed her. And my jaw dropped.
I quickly realized we were in another warp space "storage unit," but it was like nothing I'd ever seen or even heard of before. It was a gigantic area that looked to be at least a few city blocks in size, and inside there was a huge nature preserve or arboretum with trees and grass and wooded paths that extended off into the space. Further inside I could see architecture like columns and even what looked like buildings coming up through the trees, and arching over the space was an enormous dome that had a projected image of blue sky and clouds and even mountains in the distance, but as I looked more closely I could just make out the swirling red miasma "sky" beyond the dome that indicated that this existed in same the warp space pocket dimension as my own tiny locker. It was absolutely breathtaking.
As I looked around I realized we weren't alone. In this "entrance area" there were several other portals that people were using to enter and exit the space, and deeper inside I saw supers taking flight over the trees as they flew through the space.
"I wish you could see your face right now," Trixie said with a grin.
"Why have I never heard of this?" I marveled.
"Demetria established this as sort of an academy several years ago. I'd heard stories about something like this but never thought it was real until I saw it for myself."
I nodded slowly, still taking it all in. "Well, you've got me beat by a mile. Prodigy's place is in a dirty old rundown garage on the south side near a fish cannery. You wouldn't believe the smell," I said with a grimace as she smiled. Then I noticed another superheroine walk past us on the way to one of the portals and something occurred to me. "They're all girls?" I asked, looking around.
"Yeah, it's kinda lame if you ask me, but—oh, hey!" she said as someone tapped me on the shoulder.
"Mari!" I exclaimed as we shared a hug. She and I signed greetings back and forth before she prompted me inquisitively. "Oh, no, I'm not joining," I told her. "I'm just visiting. It's pretty cool."
Mari snorted and signed her disbelief.
"Yeah, gift for understatement, this one," Trixie said. "Demetria wants to meet her."
"Indeed I do," a woman's voice came from behind me.
I will forever remember the first time I laid eyes on Demetria. Unlike the others she wasn't wearing a costume, and instead was dressed casually but stylishly in slacks and a loose-flowing blouse. She had a timeless beauty to her, matched with a grace and charisma that you seldom see nowadays. I'd heard my grandparents talk nostalgically about the stars of the golden age of movies and how they had an elegance and glamour to them, but I never fully understood what they meant until that moment. I had no idea how old she was. She had dark hair and soulful eyes that still had a touch of rebellious playfulness in them, but the wrinkles around her eyes suggested an older woman's wisdom. She must have been a stunning beauty in her time, but even now she carried herself in a manner that exuded confidence but still managed to be warm and accessible. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Trixie had straightened her posture when Demetria appeared and I almost smirked about it until I realized that I was doing the same thing.
"Prodigious Girl, isn't it?" she asked, gently shaking my hand. "Welcome to our Sanctuary. My name is Demetria Valasellis."
I smiled as I kicked myself mentally.
"What?" she asked.
"I just assumed..."
"Ah, that Demetria was my hero name. No, I'm afraid I could never settle on one. Though it's just as well, I'm told that the hero registration system can be something of a pain in that regard."
"I've heard that."
She smiled knowingly. "Would you walk with me?" she asked me before nodding to Trixie and Mari who headed their own way. When Demetria's back was turned, Mari gave me an enthusiastic double thumbs-up before following after Trixie.
As we walked down the winding path surrounded by trees, the space opened up to reveal a spectacular garden. I didn't know much about flowers, but many of the plants had an almost unearthly quality to them, which was entirely possible given the extradimensional and extraterrestrial visits that Faraday City routinely received.
"You seem nervous," Demetria observed. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so she added, "Forgive me, I'm an empath. I sense emotions."
There didn't seem to be much point in denying it. "Trixie—I mean, Enchantrix—and Bhramari seem to like you a lot, but..."
"Yes?"
"Look, it's nothing personal, but I've seen enough James Bond movies to know that going off alone to talk to the head of some strange organization in her spectacular base of operations probably isn't the best idea in the world."
She stared at me in surprise for a moment and then burst out laughing. When she did, I flashed back to a memory from several years earlier just before my grandfather died. He was a stoic old man and I was intimidated by him, maybe because my attempts at telling him jokes or getting him to drop his defenses never succeeded in piercing his shell. Then one day—I think it was at dinner, I don't even remember—I made some sarcastic little aside and he burst out laughing, I mean he just lost it completely. Even my parents were shocked. It was like I'd somehow found the magic key that unlocked a lifetime of humor and he let it out all at once in one cathartic explosion of emotion. Demetria's laugh wasn't nearly so deep and sudden, but the effect it had on me was much the same as with my grandpa all those years ago...I wanted to be able to do it again and unleash that laughter.
"I didn't expect you to be funny," she told me.
"Really? Someone named Prodigious Girl?"
"Good point," she smiled.
Demetria wasn't what I expected, either. She had a quiet grace and a gentle smile that made her seem like she was more likely to offer you a cup of hot cocoa and a warm blanket than oversee an operation of young heroes and she managed to have an expression that seemed to be both playful and reserved at the same time. When she looked at me it felt like we were the only two people in the world. It made me feel very special, like I was a man against the world, able to do anything—
"You're an extraordinary woman, Prodigious Girl," she said.
Well, that let the air out of that balloon.
"Thanks," I said shyly as I looked down and brushed my hair back.
"Remarkable. Everything you've done and you still manage to be bashful. And such an unusual blend of superpowers. Usually they're more thematically connected. May I?" She reached her hand toward the side of my face.
I stiffened up. "Umm..."
"Forgive me, I've made you uncomfortable. I forget we've only just met. My powers are only empathic, not telepathic, but if it bothers you—"
"No, it...it's okay," I told her.
She gently touched my temple and closed her eyes. I didn't feel anything, but after a moment she smiled in realization. "Of course," she said to herself.
"What?"
"It's nothing," she said with a warm smile as she regarded me. I felt very nervous. Could she tell I was really a guy? I worried how an impersonator like me might be received in her little hen house.
"It's nothing bad, I promise. Quite wonderful, really." That got my attention, but she let it drop as she moved into the garden. "You need someone to nurture your talents."
"I already have a mentor," I informed her as I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
"You're working with Prodigy, aren't you?" she asked as she tended to a bulb on a plant.
"You know him?"
"Only enough to know that he can be...difficult," she said. "Perhaps not the best mentor to nurture your hidden talents?"
"Are those the 'wonderful' hidden talents you mentioned?" I asked pointedly.
"Direct and impatient," she mused. "Is that his style, or yours?"
"I'm sorry—"
She smiled. "Don't apologize. You're merely curious, and I shouldn't tease."
"But you're not answering my question, either."
She regarded me enigmatically. "Do you like our garden?" she asked finally.
I glanced around at the display of flowering blossoms. "Sure. It's...pretty."
"It's more than that. In ancient times, you could always tell what was most important to a town or village by looking at the largest structure, which would often be a cathedral or a temple. And in modern times, that's given way to office buildings and skyscrapers. It's the power of symbolism."
I nodded, not fully understanding the point she was trying to make, but then I thought about The Spire and what it represented, and how it was the first place I visited upon becoming a hero.
"When I built this place, I thought about having a large central tree as the centerpiece, but then I realized a garden is a much more apt metaphor. Here you can be surrounded by life," she said as she gently touched one of the blossoms. "I rescued every flower here. All are precious, all are rare, most of them endangered. I suspect many of them might not even exist if I hadn't intervened. But now, look at them, all vibrant and growing. But some blossoms need more tending than others."
I got the impression we weren't just talking about horticulture. "Tending?"
She gestured to a flower bud. "Consider this. If it could know its own future that someday it would be a glorious flower, perhaps that knowledge might entice it to grow, so that it blossoms sooner and even more radiantly."
I shrugged. "Okay."
"But now consider a caterpillar, whose destiny is to transform into a butterfly, beautiful and wondrous. But some caterpillars if they knew what awaited them might be afraid of such a change and fight against it," she explained. "Sometimes it's better to learn things in their natural time."
I thought about that. "If you're calling me a hideous hairy bug, I think you and Prodigy might have more in common than you think."
She laughed again, that musical laugh. "Keep your sense of humor, Prodigious Girl. I suspect it will serve you well." She examined my face and cocked her head just slightly. "You don't trust me," she observed.
"Not even a little."
"Why is that?"
It bothered me that Prodigy's suspicious nature might be rubbing off on me, but where he would be circumspect, I decided honesty was the better approach. "All of this...it's impressive. But cultivating all these supers, training them...it makes me wonder why."
She nodded. "I understand. But it's important to me that you trust me. May I show you something?"
I nodded in response and followed her deeper into the garden. I was nervous as hell and expected an attack to come at any second, so I watched the winding path and the skies for possible avenues of attack or escape. But as we turned the corner, the dense foliage suddenly gave way to a small courtyard. There was what appeared to be a small building—maybe her home—but in the center of the courtyard was a fountain that caught my eye. It was surrounded by a colorful burst of luminescent flowers of a kind I'd never seen before that seemed to practically sparkle in the light, and in the center of the fountain was a prominent life-size statue of a young woman. She appeared to be a superhero, although it was nobody I recognized. I could tell that she was young, maybe even my age, and she was standing in a heroic pose, smiling and reaching for the heavens. As I looked at it I was struck by how quiet it was back here, away from the buzz and activity I'd seen when I'd arrived.
"I don't allow people back here," Demetria said quietly. "This is...private. My meditation garden."
I looked more closely at the statue. "Who is she?"
"She is—was—my daughter. Her name was Danica. She was also a superhero, and she took the name Starbrite."
"I-I don't think I've ever heard of—"
"I wouldn't expect you to, it was many years ago. She was my miracle baby, since I never thought I'd be able to have children of my own. But all she ever wanted was to be a superhero, and—" Her voice caught in her throat. I started to say something, but she waved me off. "It's all right. It's good to talk about it."
She looked me in the eyes and touched my hair gently. From anybody else I would have found the gesture to be presumptuous and off-putting, but she had a quiet grace about her that felt very genuine. "You remind me of her, you know. Maybe that's why I brought you here. You have that same fire, the optimism, the righteous confidence. Perhaps a touch of disrespect." She smiled.
"What happened to her?"
"She was killed while apprehending some villains. I thought she was ready, but—" She shook her head.
I looked at the statue of the bold young heroine. It gave me a bit of a shiver to think of her cut down when she was so young. I knew hero work was risky but I tried not to think of it in terms of my own mortality. I didn't expect to die, but then I'm sure she didn't, either.
"Is she why you only take in girls?" I asked.
Demetria pursed her lips as she considered that. "Let me ask you a question: when did you first realize you were a woman?"
She knew! My heart skipped a beat and I felt a surge of adrenalin rush through me as I tensed up. "I, uh, look, I know I'm not—" I stammered.
She smiled warmly. "It was probably when you got your first period, wasn't it?"
"Um...s-sure, I guess. Okay," I stammered, trying not to let my relief show.
"Prodigious Girl, you went from being a girl to a woman overnight. Nature did it to you without your knowledge or consent and turned you from a child into a potential vessel of life. And for many young heroines their powers come bursting into existence much the same way, often at the same time. That's a lot to cope with at such a formative time of your life. Ancient cultures used to have rituals for helping young people bridge the gap into adulthood, but we seldom have things like that anymore."
I nodded again as I thought about that. If going from girl to woman was tough, I'd gone from boy to man and boy to woman all at the same time as I was trying to figure out how to be a hero. The notion of a place to help me navigate through all that started to make a lot of sense.
"Do you understand now why I built this place? This is for her. For you. For all you young heroes. You have remarkable gifts, but you're embarking on a very dangerous path. I don't want to stop you, I want to help you. I want for you to have the chance that she never did."
"And if I refuse?"
"Look around you. This isn't a prison, this is a place of learning, a place where you can better yourself. You're a bright young woman, free to find your own path. I can't force you to do anything you don't want to do."
I sighed heavily. "Look...why am I here?"
"So direct," she said with a little smile. "Very well, then. There are three reasons. First, I want you to know that you're welcome here any time."
I nodded.
"Second, I wanted to warn you."
"About what?"
"Prodigious Girl, I don't profess to understand the nature of your relationship with Prodigy, but I don't think he has your best interests at heart."
I sniffed and rolled my eyes. Big surprise there, I thought.
"Understand, I'm not just saying that to entice you to come here, you should feel free to make up your own mind. But please be careful around him."
I nodded again. "And the third thing?"
"Ah, yes. I have a gift for you."
* * * * *
Later as I related the story to Caleb over at his house, he stared at me wide-eyed. "Dude! She's like Professor X! You got invited to join the X-Men and you said no?"
"X-Women," I told him.
"Oh. Estrogen overload, huh?"
"Yeah. She's not wrong about Prodigy kicking my ass, but if I join up with her that means I'll have to join as a girl and then I'll be stuck as a heroine indefinitely. I don't think I'm ready for that."
"Glad to hear it," Caleb said.
"You should have seen the place, though, it was really cool."
"Yeah, well, I'm not going anyplace where I need to check my gonads at the door," he said.
I shifted uncomfortably. "You know, I wish you wouldn't say things like that. Being a girl is hard enough without the rude comments."
"I guess it should be pretty easy for you then, considering you're not a girl."
"Well, not now I'm not," I sniffed.
"Try not ever. Don't get all prissy about it."
"I'm not prissy!" I retorted prissily.
Caleb threw up his hands. "Fine! Whatever. So what was it she gave you, anyway?"
I made a little face as I felt a sudden flash of annoyance by his brusqueness and insensitivity. I pulled the small device out of my pocket.
"It's a thumb drive," he said.
"I know what it is!" I snapped. "She said that this would give me full access to Prodigy's computer."
He gave me a reproachful look. "What, and you just believed her? Who knows what that thing might do?"
"What reason does she have to lie?" I shot back. In truth I shared his concern, but his contrariness was starting to piss me off and I found myself wanting to defend the other side of the argument just to vent my growing irritability. "Maybe she's just looking out for my interests!"
He obviously noticed my emphasis on the pronoun and tensed up. "What's that supposed to mean?" he challenged.
When I said it I'd really meant it more as an indictment of Prodigy's disdainful treatment of me, but Caleb's disparaging attitude was starting to dredge up all my feelings of impotent frustration and I chafed at his accusation. If he was trying to tick me off he couldn't have done a better job.
"It's nothing," I growled.
"God, what are you, menstrual or something?"
I was wrong. Now he couldn't have done a better job if he tried.
I jammed the thumb drive into my pocket. "I gotta go," I said curtly as I grabbed my backpack and stormed out.
"Chris—!"
I was out the door before I heard any more.
* * * * *
Two hours later I'd finally calmed down, not quite sure what had set me off like that. Caleb's smartass remark aside, I wondered if all of this bouncing back and forth between raging teenage male and female hormones might be affecting me somehow. I figured I'd apologize to him the next day for snapping.
Unfortunately by the time I got home it was after dark. I knew I'd catch hell for having missed dinner and not calling, but by this point I was pretty much resigned to the fact that it was what it was. I saw on my phone that Mom had tried calling twice, but I decided by this point it was just better to show up in person and try and sweet talk my way out of it. I'd worked out an elaborate lie that I was rather proud of that involved a study group, helping a pregnant lady with a flat tire, and witnessing a robbery. I made it exceptional enough to be a good story and boring enough to be believable. I'd even removed the battery from my phone to use it as an excuse for not having called. I was patting myself on the back for my ingenuity as I walked in the front door. Showtime.
"Mom! Dad! Oh, my gosh, I am so sorry I'm late! You wouldn't believe the day I've had."
First rule of lying: don't wait to be challenged on your story, take the offensive.
"That's nice," my mother said absently as she sat there doing a crossword puzzle while dad watched some procedural cop show on TV. That in itself seemed slightly strange since usually by now she'd be off writing and he'd be reviewing case files, but I guessed a little rest and relaxation wasn't so unusual.
"So I'm walking home from my study group—I told you I was going to that, right? And as I was walking along I see this pregnant woman parked on the side of...the..." My voice trailed off as I realized they weren't paying attention. I was a little put off. I'd gone to all this trouble to weave this elaborate lie for their benefit, didn't they want to hear it?
"I put some leftovers in the fridge," Mom said.
"Oh. Okay," I said, feeling a strange mix of good fortune and dissatisfaction. "I'll be up in my room."
They didn't respond, so I moved to go upstairs. I hadn't taken two steps when my mom asked in that casual-but-absolutely-not-casual parental tone, "Chris, what are you doing with this wig?"
I froze in place as my heart sank. As I slowly turned to face them, I saw that they were both looking at me intently, and mom was holding up the long blonde wig I wore as Carly.
"I noticed it when I was vacuuming your room earlier today," she said. When I failed to respond, she prompted me with a flash of raised eyebrows that practically screamed, "Well?"
I was almost petrified with panic but since any additional hesitation would only made me look guiltier, I smiled warmly and approached them as casually as possible. My mind had gone totally blank as I raced to think of some plausible excuse but I knew I had to say something, so in desperation I resorted to a little trick I like to call "improvisational lizard lying." Since the evolved mammal portion of my brain had quickly assessed the situation and opted to retreat under the cerebral blankets of my mind and suck its thumb while curled up in a fetal position, I handed complete control of my mouth to the unevolved lizard portion of my brain. If you've never tried it, it's a fascinating exercise. The net effect is that since you have no earthly idea what's about to come out of your mouth, you actually get to hear the lies at the same time as your audience and can appreciate them in a sort of detached way. It's absolutely terrifying.
"Oh, you found it!" I said in relief. "I was looking all over for that and couldn't remember where I'd put it." I still had no idea where I was going with this, but my lizard brain apparently remembered the first rule of lying and took the offensive. "It's...for a play."
"Oh?" she said in that exact same casual-but-not-casual tone. "You're in a play?"
My eyes cut over to my father, who'd so far said nothing but was watching me like a hungry falcon eyeing a frightened vole.
What the heck was a vole, anyway? Something like a mouse, wasn't it? It was a funny word, vole. Vooole.
Okay, need to focus. Still talking my way out of trouble, here. See, that's the problem with the lizard brain, it gets easily distracted.
"Oh, it's not for me," I laughed nervously. "I got it from Caleb," I said, deciding to weave a little truth into the lie to give it some structural support. "His sister used it in a costume, and he promised that he'd give it to Erica Murillo who's in the Drama class. But since I'm in 2nd period Math with her, he asked me to give it to her."
Dang, my lizard brain rocks! Go, go, Godzilla!
I plastered a friendly smile on my face as my parents shared an inscrutable glance. Then, after an interminable pause, my father was the one who spoke.
"Son, tell the truth," he said. "Is this your wig?"
"What? No!" I was aiming for a tone of detached amusement mixed with disbelief and just a soupcon of righteous indignation for flavor. (Unfortunately I ended up more in the "sputtering, stammering idiot" zone, but you work with what you've got.) "Caleb gave it to me to give to Erica Murillo. For a play." Double down, baby.
"Chris, do you wear this wig?" my Mom asked.
Yikes! Time to ramp up the level of righteous indignation. "Mom! I told you, it's not for me! Besides, that's a girl's wig, why would I want to wear something like that?" I said accusingly. Ha! My logic was irrefutable! Check and mate!
They looked at each other again for a long moment before my mother turned to face me again. "Well, I suppose that's a reasonable explanation," she said finally.
I nodded confidently before reading from their faces that I was free to go. I turned to head upstairs.
"Chris?" my mother asked.
I turned to face her and saw that she was dangling the crown of the wig from the tips of her fingers. The pretty fall of golden tresses swung back and forth girlishly. "Forget something?"
I straightened up and moved over to the sofa, feeling enormously self-conscious as I accepted the girlish hairpiece. I grabbed it in as carefree and masculine a gesture as I could, even as my mom tilted her head to look at me and inspected my face closely as I touched it.
I hurried upstairs, my legs weak and my heart beating like a jackhammer as I clutched the wig. That was way too close for comfort, I thought. And thank God I'd had my Prodigious Girl stuff with me, because if she'd found that I'd have had some real explaining to do. I took a cleansing breath and opened the door to my bedroom, wanting nothing more than to just collapse face-down on my bed and try and put this entire day behind me.
But as I swung the door open, I froze. For there, neatly spread out over the bed, were all of the clothes I'd bought and worn as Carly. The shorts, the skirts, the dresses, the panties, everything. The makeup kit and jewelry were sitting out on my dresser, and artfully arranged on the bed was Lori Shapiro's bubblegum pink sun dress with the little white flowers, its skirt prettily fanned out next to the matching sandals.
As I stood there with my mouth wide open, I suddenly became aware that my parents were standing right behind me.
"Do you need a moment to get your lies in order?" my mom asked.
I took a few steps away from them into the room, turning slowly to face them. "I—I can explain..."
"I'm looking forward to it," she said. Then I noticed that she was holding all my colorful brassieres in her hand. She picked one out and held it up by the straps. "I'm particularly looking forward to hearing your explanation for these," she added darkly as she scowled at the large cups.
By this point in my story, dear Reader, I think I can safely say that we've gotten to know each other a little bit. You perhaps see me as a well-meaning but sometimes luckless dreamer. I, on the other hand, perceive you mostly as someone with time to kill. My point being that given what you know about me to this point, if I were to skip ahead a bit in my narration with the simple summary that I, using my wit, charm, and silver tongue, managed to talk my way out of that tight spot with poise and aplomb, you would reasonably conclude that I was in fact lying through my teeth.
You know me so well.
Thus it transpired that the next day—a lovely Saturday afternoon filled with blue skies, white puffy clouds, and busy little bees pollinating colorful spring flowers—I found myself standing alongside my mother on the front porch of the Shapiro household.
I looked pleadingly to my mother, but she glared at me with fire in her eyes. Years later I would encounter that exact same countenance on the scowling face of Professor Demonicus, and it was as though he had frozen the very blood in my veins into ice, causing me to lower my defenses just long enough to run me through with his ethereal scimitar. (I still have the scar, it's pretty awesome.)
Today, that same glower motivated me to do something every bit as terrifying. I pushed the doorbell.
A few moments later, Caleb answered the door and gave me a "what the fuck" expression that I will take to my grave.
Wide-eyed, my best friend looked me over as I stood there in the bright afternoon sun prettily made up and wearing his sister's clothes. He looked me up and down from my long golden blonde wig and made-up face to the pretty flowered dress, down past my shaved legs to my cute pink sandals. His eyes then cut back up to my chest, which was jutting outward, dare I say, prodigiously. He then glanced over at my stern-faced mother before turning to face me again.
"Hey, buddy. What's going on?" he slowly said. I instantly recognized it as the cunning repartee of a lizard brain.
My mother regarded him primly. "Caleb, aren't you going to invite us in?"
He stared at me uncertainly and I gritted my teeth even as one of the busy little bees alighted on my vibrant dress, perhaps excited at the prospect of finding a new field of flowers to pollinate. I flicked at it with my manicured finger, swatting it away with such force that I suspect it might have achieved escape velocity.
"Sure," he said absently, holding the door wide for us to enter. "Come on in...uh, ladies."
"Such a gentleman," my mom said. "Would you fetch your mother and sister, please? I called ahead to let them know we'd be coming."
Caleb hadn't even had a chance to move before we heard his sister's voice from up the stairs. "Oh. My. GOD!" Lori shrieked. It was quickly joined by the squealing laughter of two of her friends as they all got a good look at me. I didn't know them but I'd seen them around at school. I blushed furiously and looked to my mom for relief, but she was unmoved.
A temporary reprieve came in the form of Mrs. Shapiro, who escorted us to the living room while the girls continued to tease and harangue me. Lori, furious at my stealing and wearing her clothes, took special delight in heaping on the ridicule and I knew it would only be a matter of hours before my humiliation made its way around the school. (Thank you for nothing, Internet-based social media platforms. I firmly believe that pitch sessions for new social media sites feature executives using pie charts and graphics to breathlessly explain to potential investors how their new site will allow teenagers to humiliate and ostracize their peers in a fraction of the time of the competition.)
With a prompt from my mother, I apologized to Lori for stealing her clothes and told her that I'd pay her for them since I knew she wouldn't want them back now that I'd worn them. Then, in front of her giggling friends, I explained how I really loved dressing like a girl and how jealous I was and that I hoped I could be as pretty as her, someday.
Standing there in my dress and reciting my lies was the first time I can remember that I found myself wishing that I'd never gotten these super powers. It wouldn't be the last time. But the horrified look on Caleb's face as I enthusiastically professed my love for wearing pretty dresses in front of these shrieking teenage harpies was a low point.
And I hadn't even delivered the punch line yet.
"Well, you can keep the dress," Lori taunted. "It looks better on you, anyway."
"Especially with his bigger boobies," one of her friends giggled, eliciting a withering glance from Lori.
"Yeah, well, smile pretty now," she added, holding up her phone to take a picture. "I need to get some evidence of this."
"Oh, go ahead if you want, but there's no need," my mother cut in. "Tell them."
Now, credit where credit is due. The night before when my parents confronted me about my secret stash of girls' clothes, things looked pretty bleak. I very nearly told them the truth about being a superhero but figured that—embarrassing as it was—getting tagged as a closet crossdresser might allow things to at least stay in the family, and my parents' looks of disdain certainly suggested that they weren't enjoying the conversation any more than I was. But after some creative storytelling, I thought I might have had things more or less under control. Or so I thought.
What I didn't realize at the time was that while I might have been able to play off my little collection as a harmless fetish or teenage experimentation, once my mom discovered my brassieres, it was game over and I was fighting a battle that I had already lost. So after I'd managed to convince my parents that yes, thank you, I was really happy being a boy, but gosh darn if those girls' clothes weren't just so much fun to wear, that was when she lit into me with a vengeance. Maybe if they'd been Lori's bras, or even her own, I might have been able to recover. But the notion that I was evidently so fascinated with big boobs that I'd gone out of my way to buy my own special brassieres just pushed her over the edge. She accused me of objectifying women, sexualizing their clothes, and fetishizing their body parts for my own enjoyment.
"You think women with big breasts are just there for your gratification," she accused me. "You don't have any idea what it's like to be stared at and objectified just because of what you look like." (That one hit close to home, but I wisely kept my mouth shut.) But then she hit me with the coup de grace. "But you will."
She then went on to explain that she and Dad had talked it over, and they weren't comfortable raising a son who lied and stole to cover up his shameful secret "hobby," so they decided that the best solution would be to insure that my hobby was no longer shameful by making it no longer a secret. There was, after all, nothing wrong with dressing like a girl, was there?
As I gaped at them in horror, it occurred to me that this was one of those times where I would have been happier for my parents to be just a smidge less progressive. Not that I'm in any way an advocate for corporal punishment—my frequent beatings of supervillains notwithstanding—but had my dad instead been the type of unevolved lout to just beat some sense into me and throw away the clothes, a lot of trouble could have been avoided. They could have walked away with a sense of parenting accomplishment by seemingly encouraging me back onto the straight and narrow, and my invulnerable ass wouldn't have felt a thing. Win/win.
As it was—amid much supportive hugging—my parents explained that my dreams were about to come true. For the next six weeks—until the end of the school year—I was to remain dressed as a girl every minute that I was not in school. Everyone would thus learn about this side of me, and I would have ample time to explore this aspect of my burgeoning gender identity. My mother's only additional stipulation had been that since I was obviously fascinated with having such a big bosom, I should proudly continue to have one so that I could learn what it felt like to be the one being objectified. But after the six weeks was over, I could wear whatever clothes I wanted, whenever I wanted. They wouldn't judge.
"We'll love you and support you no matter if you're a boy or a girl," Mom said. Then she turned to face my dad. "Oh, honey, look how happy he is. He's crying," she smiled as she dabbed away my tears.
"I know that you might not view this as a punishment," my father said, "but for the next six weeks, you're going to be honest with everyone about what you really are."
My mother took my hand. "This will be a good experience for you," she told me. "You can't run around hiding and being ashamed of who you are inside. It'll be difficult at first, but you'll get used to it," she promised. "Now, get changed and put on your girls' clothes. I want to see what you look like."
The next morning she took me shopping to get ready for my big "coming out," although she insisted that I wear Lori's dress to apologize to her as a reminder of what my dishonesty had brought me. She made me buy everything with my own money and made a point to inform all the grinning salesgirls how much she was enjoying having a proper "girls' day" with her son.
Doctor Malevolence can kiss my ass...he may rule over the slave pits of the Manichean dimension with an iron tentacle, but pound for pound, nobody knew how to serve up soul-destroying horrors like Mom.
Apart from the humiliations of going shopping and getting made over, being a closet superhero complicated things even further when Mom announced that she wanted to get my ears pierced and had made an appointment to get my legs waxed. Quickly realizing that their needles and blades might not work on my invulnerable skin, I used my shapeshifting power to make the changes.
"Um, I already shaved my legs this morning," I said. "And my ears are already pierced," I added, tilting my head to show her my ear.
"When did..." she wondered for a moment before knitting her brows in disapproval. "Well, aren't you the enthusiastic little miss."
And so, later that afternoon, I stood there telling Lori and her friends how much fun I was looking forward to having as a girl and how I hoped that maybe we could all go shopping together one day after school. The shrieks of the Sinister Syreen Sisters had nothing on their peals of laughter.
I looked over at Caleb, but he was so embarrassed for me he couldn't even make eye contact.
His mother followed my gaze and quickly put two and two together. "Caleb! Did you know about all this?"
He looked at me desperately and then back at her. "I...uh..." he stammered. I could tell he was torn between his loyalty to me and a healthy self-preservation instinct, especially when faced with the bizarre punishment that had been meted out on me. "No. No I didn't," he said finally, looking at me sadly. I couldn't really blame him.
"Oh, baloney!" Lori spat. "You're the one who gave him my clothes, I know you did!" Then her eyes went wide in realization. "Oh, my gosh. Is he your girlfriend?" she cried, accompanied by the high-pitched shrilling of her two friends. "He is, isn't he? You two are always running off together, I bet you make out with each other!"
The room exploded into a cacophony of shouts, squeals, and angry recriminations as all of us teenagers started in on each other, with Caleb and myself vehemently denying the attacks and the teasing of the girls hitting a volume and pitch seldom heard outside of a teen pop concert auditorium.
"Quiet!" Mrs. Shapiro shouted, stunning us all into silence. Even my mom jumped.
She turned to the girls. "You. Upstairs. Now."
Lori looked like she was about to object, but since her mom obviously meant business, she and the others executed an orderly retreat with Lori pausing just long enough to snap a picture of me with her phone that I knew would probably be making the rounds with our classmates before she reached the top of the stairs. She winked and blew me a little kiss as the girls giggled their way up to her bedroom.
I vowed in that moment that if Prodigious Girl ever had to rescue them from a burning building, I—well, I'd still do it, but I'd be really catty about it. And I definitely wouldn't give them my autograph afterwards.
Mrs. Shapiro returned her attention to Caleb. "Well?"
"Mom, I—"
"He didn't do anything wrong, Mrs. Shapiro," I said. "Caleb didn't know I took the clothes. And he and I aren't...like that. We're just friends. In fact—" I hesitated as I glanced over at him. "I did tell him I liked to do this the other week. He's the only one who knows, and he didn't judge me or anything. He's really been there for me, even when I've been kind of a jerk," I added, giving him an earnest look. "I've been lucky to have him as a friend."
Our two mothers, apparently satisfied that justice had been served, gave us a small lecture about honesty and excused themselves to the kitchen to get coffee. Caleb sat down next to me on the couch, a little sheepishly.
"So, I guess I don't have to ask how it's going," he said.
"Yeah, I'm living the dream," I sighed. My eyes cut over at him and I saw his smirk. "Oh, shut up."
"No, no, dude, you look cute," he said with a smile. He then peered down at my jutting bosom. "Hey, those aren't real, are they?" he whispered.
"Nah, they're falsies," I sighed as I gave one of them a poke. "My mom made me buy them."
Caleb leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. "Can I feel?" he asked.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Hey, I never once asked to touch them when they were real!" he said defensively. "I mean, that'd be kinda creepy, feeling up my best friend."
I crossed my arms underneath them and gave him a dirty look. Then I thought for a moment and looked at him seriously. "One finger, and you get two pokes," I told him.
"Three."
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Caleb Shapiro, ever the artful negotiator.
"Fine," I sighed.
Caleb looked around to make sure we were alone and poked at my faux breast. "Yeah, that's nice," he said appreciatively. He looked at them for a moment, then wondered, "Do they jiggle like the real thing?"
"We are not having this conversation."
"You know I'm going to end up seeing for myself, anyway."
"God, you are such a perv!" I chastised him. Then, chagrined, I looked over at him. "I'm sorry about before."
"Yeah, me, too."
I felt an itch develop on my chest beneath my falsies and wondered how I could scratch it without looking like I was just groping myself in public. I tugged on my bra strap and squirmed uncomfortably as I glanced over at Caleb.
"This is gonna suck, isn't it?" I said.
"Which part? Having to dress like a girl all the time, or doing it in front of everyone you know and having them think you love it?"
I turned and gave him a deadpan stare. I doubted it had the same gravitas since I was dressed and made up like a Barbie doll, but I think he got the message.
"Oh, you mean all of it," Caleb said, nodding. "Yeah, it's gonna suck." Then, noticing my demoralized expression, he said, "Hey. You know that time on the building when you first hit the city as Prodigious Girl and I questioned your commitment to being a hero? I gotta say, with all this, you have totally convinced me I was wrong."
I looked at him more earnestly and my expression softened. "I'm really glad you're here to help me through all this," I told him.
"Yeah, I know," he replied. "That's why I figured you'd let me touch your boob."
* * * * *
Hercules, arguably one of the greatest heroes of ancient mythology, had his ups and downs. During one of his "downer" episodes he was driven mad by Hera, the queen of the gods, and in his insanity he killed his wife and six sons. After he came to his senses he was stricken with grief and sought a way to atone for his actions, and long story short, he was given twelve labors to perform. These included fun little outings like slaying the hydra and other horrendous beasts, stealing horses that ate human flesh, and all of it culminating into a literal descent into hell to capture Cerberus, the three-headed hellhound.
I go out of my way to mention all of this so that when I say that being outed as a crossdresser to my entire high school was the worst trial a hero has ever had to endure in the entire history of civilization, you can appreciate that that I'm fully aware that I'm up against some stiff competition.
My publisher has suggested that I look up "hyperbole" in the dictionary. Funny guy.
Okay, okay, it wasn't that bad. But you have to understand that to my sixteen-year-old sensibilities, before I'd gotten my abilities that fateful day in the park, my main goal had been to keep my head down and get through high school without doing anything that would scar me for life. Maybe date some girls, get ready for college, and generally just get by.
Then, I got my powers. The embarrassment of being a superheroine notwithstanding—which I viewed as a completely temporary situation—it impressed upon me the importance of maintaining a secret identity. "Getting by" gave way to a new goal of complete invisibility. I realized that everyday goals like having a full-time girlfriend or being an outstanding student might have to give way to enable my higher goal of being a hero. Maybe I could still go out on the odd date occasionally, but an unremarkable life was the price to pay for my superheroics, and I was okay with that.
I was not okay with being the new laughingstock of the school.
Those pictures that Lori had taken of me were bad enough, and by afternoon's end there was hardly a kid or teacher in school who hadn't seen them. But then having to dress that way outside of school? In my blonde wig and dresses, it was like I'd painted a glittering pink target on my back that was being held in place by the straps of the brassieres that held my prominent falsies in place.
My days were spent being mocked by my peers, and my afternoons, evenings and weekends either had me as Chris exploring my feminine side in dresses and heels or as Prodigious Girl where I could look forward to getting chewed out by Prodigy and getting repeatedly knocked on my prodigious backside by criminals who wanted me dead.
I couldn't even escape in my dreams! I found myself having a recurring nightmare where I ran through the hallways at school dressed as a girl without benefit of wig or makeup while my classmates all laughed at me. I would stumble on my high heels while I tried in vain to cover my big breasts that were tenting out my skimpy top. Then I would awake from that nightmare only to start a new day where the cycle would start all over again.
Suffice to say, things were not going My Way.
Before all this superhero stuff happened, my parents and I used to talk about everything, and I suspect that my sudden reluctance to account for the time spent with my superheroics they just chalked up to a late bout of sullen teenage puberty combined with the obvious possibility that I might be transgender. Unfortunately, this also meant that my mom had a surprisingly detailed understanding of my after-school activities and responsibilities. I'd barely walk in the door before she'd remind me how Caleb and I had planned to see some movie that was playing and then suggest a cute outfit to wear. One morning I was about to run out the door and she handed me a tote bag filled with some of my "things."
"Mom, I'm not going to wear this to school!" I complained.
"Of course not. But you have the pep rally and the football game after school you said you were attending. I spoke to the principal about all this, and he tells me there's a unisex bathroom near the teachers' lounge where you can change."
I blanched. The scene of the crime, no less. "I know it."
That was not one of my better days.
The only good thing was that the longer this went on the more people seemed to lose interest, until ultimately the most vocal teasing was limited to just a few bullies who fancied me an easy target. I hated every second of this, but I refused to give them the satisfaction and kept my chin up and ignored their taunts and pretended like everything was normal.
However, one afternoon stands out in my memory. Prodigy had dismissed me so he could handle some crisis or other, setting me to memorize the voluminous codex of metahumans he'd amassed so that I might learn their powers and weaknesses. But I would have preferred getting beat up by supervillains compared to the task that awaited me.
As always my afternoon started with me disdainfully picking out a dress to wear and then doing my makeup and putting on my wig. But as I fussed with my blonde tresses my elbows bumped up against my jutting chest and I scowled at my reflection. It was bad enough dressing like a girl without being so bosomy! As Prodigious Girl I'd started to get used to having a girl's chest and running around in a short little skirt, but as Chris it still really bothered me. But then of course everybody thought that Prodigious Girl was actually a girl, whereas as Chris it seemed like everybody knew I was just a guy playing dress-up. Guess which was more fun?
I squirmed as I faced my image in the mirror. I had to admit I looked pretty good, so at least strangers might just assume I was a girl. However, looking as I did, the people who knew me—friends, family, classmates—would also be that much harder to convince that this wasn't something that I wanted when my punishment was over and I went back to being a guy. So if I did a good job at my impersonation, everyone I knew would assume that I really wanted to be a girl. But if I did a bad job then everyone else would know that I wasn't.
Life was so much simpler when all I had to deal with was getting punched in the face by a marauding deathbot.
I sighed and plucked at my short skirt as I tried to remind myself why I was subjecting myself to this, thinking of all the people I'd helped and the lives I'd saved. "One of you had better freaking cure cancer or invent an awesome new flavor of ice cream or something," I muttered to myself.
I frowned at my figure again and then with an exasperated grumble of displeasure I grabbed a cardigan and tossed it on in the hopes that it might help minimize my chest a little. Then I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs Mom stopped to fuss at me before giving me the green light to go out.
"I thought you were going to wear those earrings we bought?"
"Mom, it's just a study group," I said as I tugged self-consciously at the cardigan.
"Mmm," she said neutrally. "Be home in time for dinner." We'd come to an unspoken arrangement where I wouldn't plead for leniency and in return she wouldn't patronize me by saying something like "Have fun," or "Enjoy yourself."
But the thing that really got me? I wasn't even all that angry at her and Dad for making me go out like this. I was at first, but I could have told them the truth at any time, and I wasn't ready to risk my future as a superhero by trusting them with what I was doing. It was like this was my penance, and these clothes were like a badge of honor. I sighed heavily and walked out the front door, feeling my falsies shifting in my bra as I made my way down the front steps.
Soft, squishy, jiggly badges of honor.
Two hours later my badges of honor and I were sitting moping on a bench in the city park. I had an open textbook in my lap that I was pretending to read, but my heart wasn't in it. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself and watching people walk past. When a couple teens about my age walked by holding hands, I looked at them longingly and thought about what this whole hero business had cost me. All I could think about was that image of the Atomic Slime sitting alone in his punchbowl at night as he wondered what he'd done to his life.
"You and me both, Slimy," I sighed.
Just then, a young guy on a skateboard came zooming up and performed a perfectly executed kickflip right in front of me.
"Caleb?" I said, gawking at him.
His double-take was priceless and his surprise at hearing my voice split his attention enough to cause him to trip and wipe out in a pretty spectacular fashion.
I got up to help him up and to his credit he didn't seem to mind being offered a hand by a girl...or someone dressed as one. "Are you hurt?"
"Just my pride," he said as he clambered to his feet and rubbed his arm before removing his helmet. "Wow, I didn't even recognize you," he said as he looked me over and we sat down on the bench. "Hey, what are you doing here, anyway? I thought you said you had that geek group thing today."
"Yeah, that...didn't really work out." When he looked puzzled, I plucked at a lock of my blonde wig by way of explanation.
"Oh, that's bull," Caleb said. "They kicked you out just for wearing that? You don't look that bad. You know, kinda dorky-cute."
"I'll pass that along," I muttered.
"They were all jerks about it? I figured Leah Paredes would be cool, at least."
I gave a small sigh. "Yeah, she stuck up for me a little, but..." I threw my hands up. "Caleb, look at me! What the hell am I doing?"
"I thought you liked being a hero."
"I do! But—look. You know what I can do. Would you go through all this to have these powers?"
"No. No way. No chance."
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "You didn't have to answer that quickly."
"Look, Chris, I'm not you. Me, I'd be using my powers to pick up girls. Or if I did have to be a girl myself, at the very least I'd be feeling myself up all the time."
I made a face. "Okay, I think we should agree to ten percent less honesty in the future. Maybe fifteen."
"I'm not cut out to be a hero. I don't even have any character-defining dark emotional wound in my past," he said. Then he considered that and looked at me. "Actually, neither do you, come to think of it. How are you soldiering on without any emotional scars to draw on?"
"I'm emotionally scarred plenty, thanks," I contended as I gave my prominent falsies a nudge.
"Anyway, I'm just saying that not many people would do what you do." When I grumped a little, he paused to look around and did a double-take as he realized where we were sitting. "Whoa. Are we—are we where I think we are?"
I nodded.
"Dude, this is where you got your powers? Where'd it happen?"
I sighed and pointed over next to the path. "The glowing portal thingy was right over there."
He leaned closer. "And where's the tree?"
I groaned. I knew it had been a mistake to tell him about running into that tree and knocking myself unconscious, but I was so excited at the time I didn't hold back any of the details.
"That's not really important..."
"C'mon, show me."
He had a funny look on his face, so I reluctantly pointed out the offending elm. "That one. That's the one that got me."
"Huh," he said as he admired the tree.
I expected him to say something more, but I realized that he was trying force me into asking him more questions to draw me out of my shell. It bothered me a little that it was working.
"What?" I asked.
"Well, it's just kinda cool, is all. I mean, if you think about it, if that tree hadn't been there, you would have kept running and there probably wouldn't even be a Prodigious Girl."
"Look, I was scared, okay? I admit it! I got lucky when I got my powers, but that glowing portal could just as easily have been something horrible. Heck, it probably should have been."
"Funny, I've never seen you run from a fight."
"But I wasn't running from a fight! I was running from—" I hesitated. "I was running from all the things it could have been."
Caleb nodded. "Sounds to me like it was a good thing that tree was there to stop you. Somebody should put a memorial plaque on it or something."
I laughed in spite of myself. Caleb smiled a little but he had a funny look again.
"What is it?" I said.
He shrugged. "Dude, I know this sucks," he said, gesturing at my outfit. "But...maybe all this is just another tree, y'know?"
I glanced down at myself and then over at him. "What, like I'm supposed to learn something from this? Like how to do my makeup?"
"You are getting pretty good. Although your eyebrows are a little bushy. I never liked that on a girl," he said critically. "Or maybe it's just holding you in one place long enough for you to appreciate what you've got."
"Which is?"
"I dunno, it's just a theory," Caleb said as he put his helmet back on. "Still, sounds like it bought you an in with Leah Paredes," he added, clicking his tongue and pointing at me with his finger.
I smiled then looked at him awkwardly. "Thanks," I said gently. "For everything." Then I hesitated and looked away shyly.
Caleb noticed it. "What?"
I waved my hand away. "It's nothing. It's stupid."
He fixed me with a look as I nervously looked at the ground and glanced away. Then, realizing what I wanted, he rolled his eyes. "Okay, c'mon, bring it in," he said magnanimously as he held his arms out and I hugged him.
"God, you are such a girl. You are totally going native."
"Shut up!"
"Those are awesome, though," he said, pointing at my chest as he stood up. "You shouldn't cover 'em up like that."
"Perv!"
"Dude, relax. You're not even my type."
I was about to make another comment when something he'd said hit me. "You said you didn't recognize me at first."
"So?"
I pointed at the spot on the ground where he'd done the kickflip in front of me. "You jerk! You thought I was a cute girl and you were showing off for me!"
He winced. "Ahh, busted. But not as busted as—"
"Heard it."
"Yeah, well, you're still not my type. But when you go flashing legs like those you gotta expect a little action coming your way," he said with a wink before he took off down the path.
It wasn't until years later that I visited that spot again and happened to notice a small metal plate on the side of the elm identifying it as the "Prodigal Tree."
By Jenny North
Artwork by Fraylim and Splutt
One day while flying through the city, I accidentally happened to see Marty Maddox sitting on the top of his building having lunch, and—
Actually, that's not entirely right. In fact, it would be a complete lie.
In point of fact, I'd been hovering around the AGON Technologies building for several days—literally hovering—around lunchtime in the hopes that he would be out there. I was going out of my mind with Prodigy and I didn't know who else to vent to. Caleb wasn't as ingrained in the culture as I was, and Trixie seemed to be doing so well with Demetria that she didn't understand. I needed the advice of a professional sidekick, and Marty Maddox was the guy. A couple times I'd seen him out there, but he was already been talking to some other young heroes and I didn't want to interrupt. So, by the time I was finally able to catch up with him, I was about ready to pop.
"I hate him," I said.
"Yeah, I can see how that might be very—"
"Hate him. And he detests me. He doesn't value a single thing that I do, and I haven't learned a single thing from him. That pompous and decrepit old windbag is just using me as a human shield."
He smiled as he put down his sandwich, obviously trying not to laugh.
"It's not funny!"
"Prodigious Girl, if it's so awful, why put up with the abuse? Why not just ditch the, um..." He hesitated.
"Windbag," I declared, eliciting another grin from Marty. "It's complicated," I grumbled as I took a little bite of the brownie he'd offered me earlier. "Besides, I hate giving up. And I have learned a few things, I guess."
"There are other mentors," he pointed out. "What about that Demetria person you said your friend recommended?"
"She was nice," I said.
"And...?"
"She was...nice," I repeated.
"So? Nice is good, right?"
"I don't know. She's not for me. Maybe I've just been kicked around for so long that I'm suspicious of everybody."
"Did you mention her to your mentor?"
"What, Prodigy?" I asked, incredulous. "Nooo. No way."
Marty tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Yeah, there were plenty of things I didn't share with Promethean back in the day."
"I think Prodigy would have to stand on a stool to kiss Promethean's butt, if you ask me." Then a thought occurred. "Did you know Prodigy?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, never met him. You gotta understand, it was a crazy time back then. And I guess I never had cause to track him down later. In fact, I'd heard he was dead."
I grumbled again as I took a bigger bite of the chocolate brownie.
Marty gave me a lopsided grin. "Look, I get it. You got taken in by all of the flashy costumes and capes, the thrilling derring-do. And then, under the surface..."
"Everybody is a jerk," I said with my mouth full.
He tilted his head in agreement. "The villains want you dead. The heroes are glory hounds out for fame and fortune. The press is just waiting to catch you in a scandal. And most people who don't think you're a menace will criticize you for not doing more."
"So why do it?"
He sighed. "That's something only you can decide. But you've got your whole life ahead of you. You think it's hard now, wait until you're working a full-time job and trying to make a relationship work. And then a family? Kids? Most regular people can barely make it work without being a superhero."
I furrowed my brow. "Are you saying I should give up?"
"I...look, miss, I don't know you all that well but I can already see that you're bright, you're talented, and you have a good heart. And you can apparently fly and lift a car over your head," he added with a grin. "At your age, you're nothing but limitless potential. But when you're old and looking back on your life, surrounded by your kids and grandkids, do you really think your life's worth is going to be measured by how much you could lift or how well you could take a punch?"
My lip twitched as I thought about what he said. "I should probably get going," I said.
He nodded. "You be safe out there."
* * * * *
The Kobayashi Maru. Geek shorthand for a no-win scenario, although technically it's really meant to describe a test of character when faced with such a trial. When I became a superhero I knew that I would someday have to face such dilemmas. Do you save the girl or disarm the bomb? Rescue the innocents or capture the villain? Sacrifice was always going to be required.
So, what desperate quandary was I now faced with? And who was the pitiless and implacable foe forcing me to make this decision?
"Chris, you're going to need more dresses and girls' clothes," Mom informed me as she put her coffee cup into the dishwasher. "Do you want to buy them yourself, or would you like me to come with you?"
I gaped at her over my bowl of cereal as I fumbled with the spoon in my suddenly senseless fingers. It was Saturday morning so per the terms of my punishment I was already dressed as a girl. I was wearing a casual red skater dress and sandals along with a faux leather jacket that my mom had initially decried as too boyish until she saw it with the dress and agreed that it made for a cute outfit, and she complimented me on my fashion instincts. We'd bought this and a couple other outfits during that initial shopping expedition, but her meaning was plain—if I was going to serve my sentence, I was going to need more clothes.
For a moment I almost suggested that I might borrow some of her clothes, except that she would probably have misgivings (admittedly reasonable) about sharing outfits with her teenage son. And since "borrowing" clothes was what got me into this mess in the first place, this was obviously part of my parents' plan to publicly expose me so that I might get over my embarrassment at everyone thinking I liked to dress up like a girl.
Sorry, Mom and Dad, don't hold your breath on that one.
But of course I wasn't being given a choice if I wanted to go, but rather if I wanted her to go with me. If I said yes, then she'd invariably out me to the salesgirls when she talked to them. But if I said no, there was at least a chance I might pass for a girl who was out shopping...until I had to hand over my debit card to the salesgirl at the register. Or if they figured it out sooner, then they'd realize that I was a teenage guy on his own pretending to be a girl and out shopping for dresses.
Kobayashi Maru.
I never imagined I'd face it while wearing a wig and a dress over a bowl of Froot Loops.
An hour later Mom dropped me off at the mall and told me to call her when I needed a pickup. As I watched her pull away and felt my skirt flutter in the midmorning breeze, all I could think was that normally by now I'd be fighting some power-mad supervillain and he'd be grinding my face into the pavement with his boot. Instead, I found myself looking at the display mannequins in the window and wondering if the horizontal pleats on the pastel dress I saw there would make me look too bosomy. I sighed.
I started off by silently praying for a supervillain attack to rescue me from the monotony of rifling through rack after rack of clothes, but my prayers went unanswered. However, a few hours later I'd managed to find a few outfits that I thought were kinda cool and should pass muster, a new pair of sandals, some mod boots I liked, and even some inexpensive new jewelry.
I'm not saying I was having fun exactly, but I had to admit it was a little entertaining to walk unseen among the women and girls like I was some kind of spy. Being Prodigious Girl was all about flash and being the center of attention, but this was like a weird kind of invisibility, like my secret identity had a secret identity.
I was feeling pretty confident in my deception and was holding up a nifty-looking necklace in the mirror when I spotted two girls from my school and froze in a panic. They hadn't spotted me yet but the pictures and stories of me as the openly transgender teen had made me something of a legend among my peers. I knew if they spotted me, things would probably get loud and awkward.
I put the necklace down and backed away slowly, suddenly feeling a lot more unsteady in my low-heeled sandals. I just needed to—
"Oops! Pardon me," a guy's voice came as I bumped into him. I fumbled and accidentally dropped one of my shopping bags.
"Sorry," I apologized as we both bent down to pick it up. He got to it first and handed it to me.
"Here you go. Oh, wow, those are cool earrings," he complimented me. He was about my age, maybe a year or two older and with the darkest black hair that I'd ever seen. He wore it a little long in kind of a loose rebellious style and as he brushed it back I noticed that he was wearing a silver stud earring.
I felt a little uncomfortable the way he was looking at me, the way a guy looks at a girl. But I felt compelled to say something.
"Oh, thanks. I like yours, t—"
I stopped short as I stared at his ear and noticed the little nick that was cut out of it. A nick that was identical to the one I'd noticed in Killbane's ear when I'd grappled with him at the warehouse and he'd nearly burned me to death. At first I thought it might be a coincidence, but as I looked at his face and jet-black hair, the resemblance was unmistakable.
His brow furrowed slightly. "You know, you look really familiar," he said. "Is it possible—"
"Nope."
He shook his head. "No, I swear I've seen you before. Do you go to Midtown High?"
"Um..."
He snapped his fingers. "Oh, my God, you're that girl!"
"Huh?"
He moved closer and lowered his voice. "I mean, that's what you like to be called, yeah? You're transgender, right? Wow, that's so cool. This takes a lot of guts, what you're doing. You look awesome, by the way."
"Thanks?"
He nodded. "Hey, look, I gotta get going, but maybe I'll see you around?"
"S-sure."
As he started to walk off, I shook off my bewilderment and decided to try for a sentence that was more than one syllable. "Wait!" I said. "I didn't get your name?"
"It's Derek," he said with a grin.
We stared at each other for a moment before I realized he was waiting for my name. "Oh. I'm, uh, Christie," I said as flashed me another smile and headed off into the mall. I had no idea why I'd felt compelled to give him a girl's name instead of just 'Chris,' it just came out that way. But now I had bigger concerns to occupy me.
Still stunned by the realization of who he seemed to be, I turned to see my two teenage classmates giggling and tittering as they had obviously witnessed the exchange. But I ignored them as I hurried after him and tried to stay out of sight.
I tailed Killbane—or Derek, or whatever his name was—out into the main part of the mall and was pretending to look at some jewelry on one of the carts when I spotted Caleb chatting with a couple girls from school. I hurried over to him and grabbed him by the arm, startling him.
"Oh, um, hey, Chris! What—what's up?"
I craned my neck to keep an eye on Derek. "Hey," I said distractedly, not really aware how I was snuggling up to his arm, but the two girls definitely noticed. "Um, I need to talk to you about something important. You got a minute?"
The girls giggled and rolled their eyes as they gave Caleb a little look which sailed right over my head.
He started to object, but as the girls walked off, he looked at me with annoyance. "I do now."
"Huh? Oh, sorry," I said as I let go of his arm. "Dude, that guy over there with the dark hair—don't look at him!—that's Killbane! That's the villain who almost killed me!"
"The guy buying the Jamba Juice."
"Yes!" When Caleb looked at me skeptically, I told him, "Evil people can like smoothies, too."
"Uh huh. Evil smoothies. Yeah, well, I think you're in the clear, I don't think he's looking to throw down here."
"That's just it! I bumped into him and we got to talking! He's really...nice."
Caleb looked at me strangely. "Are you thinking about dating him?"
"What? No! Why would you think that?"
He shrugged helplessly. "Look, Chris, I'm mostly trying to keep up, here. First you're a superhero. Then you're a superheroine. Now you're a girl—"
"I'm not a girl."
"You're doing a pretty good impression of a girl," he said as he looked down at my outfit and the bags in my hands from teen girls' stores. "Y'know, I'm trying to be a friend, but I kinda miss the guy I used to hang out with who'd have sword fights with me using cardboard tubes while we made lightsaber noises."
"I'm still that guy!" I told him. "Oh, crap, he's on the move again. Here, act like my boyfriend or something so we won't draw attention," I said as I jammed the bags into his hands and then hung girlishly off of his arm as we followed Derek into the mall.
"Oh, yeah, this is just like old times," Caleb deadpanned.
"Dude, why is he not in jail? And what's with him? He was like the nicest guy when I talked to him."
"Maybe it's just a cover?"
"Ten minutes ago he complimented me on having a lot of guts for being transgender, but the last time I saw him he was screaming at me and calling me a stupid cunt as he tried to roast me alive."
"Maybe he's bipolar?"
"I don't think the two poles get that far apart. Wait, what's he doing now?" I asked.
I pulled Caleb out of sight behind a mall directory and we watched as Derek went into a greeting card store.
"You're kidding me with this, right?"
I hurried us over to the store but I couldn't see Derek inside so I grabbed the bags from Caleb and shoved him towards the entrance. "Go! Go! Find out what he's up to!"
Caleb just shook his head and wandered inside as I waited outside the Hot Topic next door and pretended to look at the merchandise. A few minutes later Caleb emerged and I hurried over.
"What is it? What's he doing?"
"Chris, seriously, I don't think there's a story here."
"Why? What's he—?"
Just then, Derek came out and started to walk in the other direction. He was carrying a floral basket that had large heart-shaped helium balloons floating overhead that said, "Happy Birthday, Mom!"
Caleb sidled up next to me. "So, do we follow him? Who knows what nefarious scheme he might be hatching! And I don't like the sound of this 'Mom' character."
"Fine, I give. But can you just do a little digging, please? Maybe he really is a nice guy, but if he's got an evil twin or something, I'd like to know it."
"Okay," he grumbled. "I live to serve."
"In the meantime—" I put my shopping bags down and retrieved two rolls of wrapping paper from the display in front of the greeting card store. "—you can defend yourself, Sith lord." I tossed him one of the rolls and held up my own in salute before striking a fighting stance.
He grinned. "Okay, you can be Rey."
"The heck with that. If I'm gonna be a girl, I'm gonna be Mara Jade."
* * * * *
I got home from the mall and grudgingly showed Mom my purchases. I wasn't sure if she was trying to be supportive or maybe just teasing me, but I flatly refused her suggestion to model my new outfits for the benefit of my dad, who in turn seemed pleased by my decision. Even more than my mom, I felt really weird standing there dressed as a girl in front of him, as though I'd broken some fraternal bond or something. To his credit, if he ever felt the same way he never let on, at least not in front of me. Although on more than one occasion I'd caught my parents sharing little glances of detached amusement that were something like silent befuddled shrugs at the concept of having a son who apparently liked dressing like a girl.
Sometimes I imagined just coming clean and telling them the truth. In the movies, it's usually pretty simple: Bruce Wayne looks his love interest square in the eyes and says, "I'm Batman." Or he just removes the cowl. Me, I'd dramatically rip off my blonde wig, proclaim I didn't really want to be a girl, and then I'd...change into a girl. Then I'd explain I was a superheroine, but only temporarily...well, the heroine part, not the superhero part. Even if I thought they'd overcome their biases against superheroes, the whole thing just didn't have the same dramatic sting. I'd have to resort to flip charts to explain it all.
During dinner my cell phone beeped a message from Prodigy who asked me to meet him downtown, so I quickly finished eating and blathered some excuse about meeting Caleb for a school assignment.
"Really. On a Saturday night," my dad said.
"He said he wanted the materials to work on it tomorrow morning."
My parents shared one of their little looks. "Mmm," my Mom intoned. "Well, don't be too late. Don't forget we're visiting your cousins tomorrow."
I sighed. The thought of seeing my dad's brother and his family dressed like a stacked blonde teenage girl was pretty much the last way I wanted to spend my Sunday afternoon, coming in even lower than getting my face punched in by supervillains. "Do I have t—" I started, but a quick look at their faces told me that it was a lost cause. "I mean, yay," I said unenthusiastically. "Anyway, I gotta run, so—"
"Aren't you forgetting someone?" Mom said, casting her eyes downward.
"I'm in kind of a hurry..."
"That's what you said the last three times. He's your dog, Chris. Caleb can wait."
As though he sensed that we were talking about him, my dog looked up at me. He was a yellow Labrador/Chihuahua mix that was cute as a button and roughly half as smart as the neighborhood squirrels that bedeviled him. Given the task of naming him, I very cleverly named him "Underdog." Unfortunately, Underdog was my first real pet and I hadn't considered how problematic it was to give a three-syllable name to something you'd be yelling at to behave. Caleb had belatedly suggested that "U-Dog" might be a good nickname, but unfortunately since I'd frequently slacked off taking care of him during his formative years, the micro-brained canine now responded solely to my mom's nickname for him: Undie.
"Okay, stupid, let's make this quick," I muttered, heading for the front door with the dog in tow.
"C'mon, Undie," I protested. Having to walk around the neighborhood in a dress was bad enough, but now in all the excitement of going for a walk my dog had apparently forgotten why we were outside and now stared up at me as if to say, "Dude, what are you wearing? Have you no shame?"
I tugged on his leash, which motivated him to move almost eight feet before he started sniffing at a tree.
"Speed of lightning, roar of thunder," I said beseechingly as I gave his leash another tug. But he stubbornly stayed put and buried his nose in the base of the tree.
"Undie..." I whined.
"You're always trying to flash your undies, Patterson," a guy's voice called. "I guess that's why you like to wear skirts."
I stiffened up. "Hey, Ash," I said with a grimace. My heart skipped a beat as I realized I'd come within a whisker of calling him "Blaze." I still couldn't believe this punk that used to torment me was the same guy I fought alongside. When I'd first gotten my powers, I'd had frequent fantasies about bending Ash into a pretzel for all the grief he'd given me, but ironically as Prodigious Girl the first thing I'd done was to throw myself in front of all kinds of attacks to protect him as my teammate. If I'd known who he was, I wouldn't have been so diligent.
I looked away shyly, embarrassed to be seen by him like this. The news of my feminization was common knowledge across the school, so I knew he'd heard about me. And while I figured there was little chance he'd recognize me as Prodigious Girl, it still made me nervous.
"Hi, Chrissie, it's nice to see you, too," he said teasingly, obviously mistaking my grimace for a smile. "Ooh, what a pretty dress," he said, plucking at my skirt.
I swatted his hand away. "Knock it off, Ash."
"Oh, little Chrissie is so pretty when she's angry," he said with a pout before breaking into an annoying laugh. Even with that stupid voice synthesizer in his costume, how had I not recognized that? He did a better job at protecting his identity than I gave him credit for.
"I always knew you were a fag, Patterson. Now at least you look the part."
I balled my hands into fists and prayed that he'd be stupid enough to give me an excuse to defend myself. I promised I'd only break his collarbone a little bit.
"Yeah, well, if dressing like this means that I don't have to act like a douchebag like you, I'd much prefer to dress like a girl any day," I shot back. Then I paused and blinked in confusion. Jeez, that was my comeback? That was practically incoherent. I really had to work on my quips.
Ash didn't seem to notice. He reached out and brushed the hair of my wig back from my face. If he'd thrown a punch I would have reacted in a split second, but I was so flabbergasted by the unexpected intrusion I didn't know how to react.
"Aww, are those your mommy's earrings? Does she let you borrow them?"
"Leave me alone, Ash," I said as I took a half-step backwards to put more space between us. His hand that had touched the hair of my wig fell down in front and I'm pretty sure brushed against one of my jutting falsies. "I mean it."
"Oh, what's the little queer gonna do? You know you want a real man to—"
His voice trailed off mid-sentence as he got a weird look on his face. I wasn't sure what was going on until I smelled it, too. We both looked down to see Undie doing his business on Ash's shoe.
"Ahh, sick!" Ash complained as he shook his foot in disgust. He looked me up and down and said, "You're just...sick!" he repeated before storming off.
As he retreated I turned to look down at Undie, who stared back at me with that same perplexed look on his face as before.
"You are a very good dog," I told him.
* * * * *
I entered the garage to find Prodigy hunched over the workbench, soldering something that looked like a steel wire whisk onto something that looked like a power drill.
"Sorry I'm late, I had to take Undie for a walk."
Prodigy looked over his shoulder at me. "Is that some dumbass teenage euphemism for masturbation?"
"Eww, no! Don't be disgusting. He's my dog!"
"Good, because you can buff your muffin on your own time," he snapped. "And while we're at it, let's add 'eww' to the list of crap I never want to hear out of your mouth again."
"Any chance we add 'muffin buffing' to the ban list?" I muttered as he pulled up a spreadsheet of timetables on the computer and printed them out and handed them to me.
"What's this?"
"It's the Faraday City bus schedule. Just make sure your mutt is playing in the street at the right time, and you won't even need an alibi."
"I'm not going to kill my dog!"
"Suit yourself. Just don't come crying to me when Scooby blows your secret identity. They have a brain the size of a walnut, but dogs are responsible for outing more heroes than any three tabloid rags."
"C'mon, didn't you ever have a pet when you were young? Like a woolly mammoth or a baby triceratops?"
"You can be replaced, you know. There's nothing special about you."
"But then you'd miss watching me get mauled by bad guys all the time," I countered. "Which I'm assuming is why I'm here?"
He held up the device he'd been working on and inspected it closely. "I'm meeting up with the Liberty Squadron. I'm already late."
I perked up at the mention of the city's premier super-team. "Really? All of them?" I asked as I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice. "Will Promethean be there, too?"
"Don't get your panties damp. I said I'm going," he snapped as he shoved the device into my hands on his way to the car.
"So what am I doing?"
"I got a tip on a metahuman incursion going down tonight. The coordinates are on your I-Comm. You need me to hold your hand?"
"No," I said. "Because any time I get into a tight spot, I just think to myself, 'WWPD?'"
"Good policy."
"Yep, never fails. I just think, 'What Would Promethean Do?' and it all works out." He gave me an annoyed look and I examined the device in my hands. "What's the egg beater for?"
He opened the car door and looked at me like I was making him even more late for the big-time hero gig I wasn't invited to. "It's a sonic destabilizer. Charge for ten seconds and keep it pointed at her for five and you'll be back home doing your nails in no time."
I was about to say something sarcastic but he'd already climbed in the car and cut me off with the sound of the car door slamming shut followed by the squealing of the tires. Of course the really galling thing was that I actually did promise my mom I'd paint my nails before the family get-together tomorrow. It was still an insulting thing to assume, though.
"Jerk," I muttered as I inspected the device. Well, at least this time I'd be the one with the ace up my sleeve and not just the target dummy.
* * * * *
"AAHHH!" I screamed, gripping my ears tightly as another sonic scream slammed me with enough force to send me flying through the wall of the security building and into the street outside. I landed in a heap not far from where the useless techno egg beater had fallen earlier and I paused to wonder if it was better at making omelets than it was at taking out rampaging metahumans. Based on its track record so far I figured it'd have to be.
"Give it up, lady!" I shouted as I saw my opponent climb out the hole I'd just made. My only saving grace was that I didn't think she'd had time to grab whatever it was she'd come to steal before I showed up. That was pretty much the only thing that was going well so far.
"I am not just a lady," she said with a taunt. "I'm Milady Melody Malady!" she proclaimed as she launched another sonic scream in my direction. Fortunately this time I was able to dive out of the way and only caught the edge of the attack and managed to keep my feet.
"Y'know, I realize this probably sounds disingenuous coming from someone who calls herself Prodigious Girl, but the cutesy wordplay doesn't help the dumb name."
She shrieked again and I flew along the street to grab a sizable piece of pavement from where I'd crashed a moment ago. I swooped upwards and launched it at her, hoping that I might catch her off-guard by attacking from a new angle. Unfortunately she was too quick for me and vaporized the incoming projectile before it could connect.
"Is this the best you can do?" I said. "I mean, seriously, this volume is like at the level of a Taylor Swift concert. Do you at least do requests?"
"Do you ever shut up?" she challenged.
I laughed. "Okay, but you firs—WHOA!" I yelled as I dodged out of the way of another tightly-focused sonic burst. I decided to take the offensive and flew right at her in the hopes that I could power my way through whatever she hit me with and plow into her with enough force to knock her out. But I hadn't made it twenty feet before she hit me with something new and everything started to spin out of control. Whatever it was threw off my inner ear equilibrium and I barely had time to register the attack before I slammed face first into the pavement. For a moment it hit me that this was a similar tactic to what Prodigy had used against me the night I'd met him, but unfortunately my mentor never saw fit to teach me a counter-strategy. But while that thought was still running through my head, Melody pounded me again with another blast that hit me with enough kinetic force to cause me to dredge a ditch through the pavement, butt first.
"It's got a good beat but it's tough to dance to," I groaned as I struggled to pick myself up. I'd barely put my hands on the pavement when I caught the distinct smell of brimstone.
My first thought was that she'd hit me hard enough that I was hallucinating, but as I turned to the side I saw a pair of boots right next to me, and they were on fire. As my gaze traveled upward, I saw the man they were connected to—another super dressed in black and dark reds—and he, too, was also engulfed in flames. I blinked my bleary eyes and realized who it was: Killbane. The villain who'd very nearly roasted me alive that fateful night at the warehouse.
"Oh, poop."
"You're gonna pay for what you did!" he yelled, and I knew he had me dead to rights. I braced myself for the incoming assault, but I was in no way prepared for what happened next: as I watched, he launched a curtain of flames over at Melody, and she fell to the ground shrieking in agony. After a few seconds, she collapsed in a heap as I sat there in the ditch watching. I then stared up at him, not sure what to do.
He looked down at me and after a moment the flames around his body subsided and he leaned down and offered me a hand.
I stared at it stupidly. He could have been offering me a can of Vienna sausages and it would have made more sense. But after a moment, I blinked and took his hand to help me up.
He said something, but my ears were still ringing from all of the sonic shrieks.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that," I said as I poked my finger in my ear. "Did you say you wanted to start fighting now? 'Cause if it's all the same to you, I could use a minute."
His eyes went wide. "No! I said I was sorry for breaking up the fight!"
"Oh. Because you want to kill me yourself, right?" I had to admit, this was the most civilized pre-fight discussion I'd ever had with a villain. It was like the British aristocrat version of a "Yo Mama" fight. ("I daresay, Reginald, your matriarch is so obtuse that she believes her gluteus maximus to be named after a Roman emperor." "Ho! Well played, good sir. Well played.")
He looked at me in alarm. "What? No! I just wanted to help! I mean, you're a hero, right?"
"Well, yeah..."
"Oh, thank God," he sighed. "For a second there I thought I might have taken out the wrong one. We need jerseys or something to tell who's who, like blue side and red side. Sorry about jumping in unannounced like that, I'm sure you could have handled her. I hope I didn't step on your toes."
"Uh uh," I said, shaking my head slightly.
"Oh, sorry, my name's Blamestorm," he said.
I peered at him closely. He was wearing a mask, but there was absolutely no doubt in my mind this was Killbane. The same face, same powers, same little nick out of his ear. And this was also the same guy I'd met at the mall, I was certain of it.
He apparently took my silence as a rebuke and shrugged. "Yeah, I know it's a dumb name, but it kinda made sense. My flames aren't as hot as they look, but they fire the target's pain receptors directly. It's apparently pretty excruciating."
"Yeah, it is," I agreed, remembering my firsthand experience at the warehouse. "I-I mean, it sure sounded like it when she went down. I, uh, I'm Prodigious Girl," I said, watching his face closely for any sign of recognition.
"Good to meet you."
I nodded slowly, still watching his face. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare," I told him. "You and I haven't met before, have we?"
He smiled. "Oh, no. I'm sure I'd remember."
"Yeah, you'd sure think so, wouldn't you?" I wondered.
* * * * *
I flew straight home tired and sore from the fight and since it was after 11:00 I decided to just sneak into my window as Prodigious Girl. It was a dumb move on my part but I was so preoccupied with Killbane's behavior that I wasn't really thinking straight. However, both my parents were early risers so I figured they'd both be asleep by now.
I flew in through my window and as I landed I caught a glimpse of myself in my bedroom mirror and paused. It was weird seeing myself as Prodigious Girl surrounded by the accoutrements of my normal male life right alongside the dresses and makeup I had to wear in my off-hours. It was a weird "worlds collide" moment as my three lives met in a weird detente. When I decided to become a hero I knew there'd be challenges maintaining a dual identity, but this was over the top!
Tired and ready for bed, I tapped my I-Comm to summon my warp closet to retrieve my CosFit device and change to my civilian identity. Of course that would be my female civilian identity since I'd left home dressed as a girl. So, even once the CosFit had done its job I'd still have to undress and scrub off all my makeup. I sighed heavily. It's like I had to excavate through layers of girl stuff to get to my guy self that was buried underneath.
The warp closet opened with its usual vorp noise and I dug through the clutter to retrieve the CosFit device. I really had to clean in there, I thought.
"Chris, is that you?" my mom's voice came from downstairs.
I'd forgotten she was working on her research paper! "Yeah, it's me," I called back and immediately clapped my hands over my mouth in a panic since I'd forgotten I was still Prodigious Girl.
There was a long pause. "Did you come in through the front door?" she asked, the suspicion evident in her voice.
Crap, I had a fifty-fifty shot on this. I tried to lower my voice into a masculine register and responded, "Uh, I used the back door. I didn't want to wake you." I sounded ridiculous.
I heard the sound of her footsteps and immediately knew I'd guessed wrong. If she'd been working in the kitchen she would have seen me come in the back door, and from there it didn't take much imagination to realize I'd snuck in and to wonder why. Shit!
I activated the CosFit device and felt the familiar prickly march of the nanobots against my skin as they began to transform my costume into the last outfit I'd been wearing. I closed the warp closet with another vorp and tossed my I-Comm across the room as I watched the nanobots' progress. They seemed to be taking their sweet time about it.
"Young man, so help me, you had better be dressed as a girl up there!" my mom warned as she marched up the stairs.
"Uh huh," I said with a frog in my throat as I shapeshifted my body back into Chris. Meanwhile, the nanobots blithely marched merrily along as they transformed my clothes, unheeding of my desperate exhortations for them to hurry.
Mom knocked firmly on my door. "Christopher, open up this door this instant!"
"One sec! I'm just, um, finishing this, uh...pie." Damn you, lizard brain!
"Now!"
A few seconds later I pulled the door open and hid my left leg behind it as the nanobots were still tickling their way down my thigh.
"Hey, what's up?" I chirped pleasantly.
Mom looked me over suspiciously, obviously trying to figure out if there was some way I'd done up my makeup, hair, jewelry and outfit in the last few seconds.
"Christopher, did you sneak in just now?" she challenged as she noticed my open window.
I looked aghast at the very idea. "Mom!" I laughed. "No, I came in the front door, like I said. I just lost track of time, is all. I mean, can you imagine me climbing up the trellis in a dress and heels?" I expelled a little pfft of air as I shrugged in disbelief.
"I bet you'd get a nasty run in your pantyhose," she said slowly as she looked down at my leg. "Let's see the other one."
"Hmm?"
"Your leg. Show me your other leg."
"Oh, right. Because there'd be a run there, wouldn't there? I can see how if there was a run there, then that could look suspicious."
She stared at me impatiently.
"Aaaaand here...you...go," I said as I pulled my leg out for her to see. I turned my calf back and forth to show her.
"Hmm." She stepped into my room and checked behind the door. "Was there anybody else in here with you just now?"
I shook my head. "Nope, just me."
She furrowed her brow. "So odd. I thought I heard..." She looked at me quizzically. "Have you been practicing doing a girl's voice?" she asked.
"I-I have, yes," I nodded.
"Oh," she said. "'Cause it sounded really good. Very natural," she admitted. "Nice job."
"Thanks," I squeaked in a fake little falsetto. Then I cleared my throat. "I'm still working on it."
"Okay," she said, obviously not satisfied but unable to push it any further. "You get to bed, now. And no more eating pie in your bedroom."
"Will do. Because that's how we get ants," I added conversationally as I tried to hide my wince. My lizard brain and I were gonna have a long talk after this. "G'night!" I said brightly.
After she left I collapsed onto my bed and sighed in relief as I stared at the ceiling. My heart raced as I caught my breath and absently brought my hand to my chest. Of course all I got was a soft handful of my fake bosom, and as I looked down at myself through the hairs of my blonde wig I saw my hand resting on my falsies that tented my dress upwards.
"Secret identities are so stupid," I complained.
* * * * *
"Blamestorm?" Caleb laughed.
"It's not that bad a name," I said as I put on my earrings. Caleb had come over to my house early so I could fill him in on what had happened, but I was still finishing getting dressed for a family outing. It always took longer to do my makeup than I thought it would. When I turned into Prodigious Girl my "makeup" was actually just different pigmentation that I shapeshifted onto my skin, but I figured doing that as Chris might get noticed so I had to learn how to do it the hard way. All this girl stuff was a pain in the ass.
"No, no," Caleb said with a funny expression as he watched me touch up my lipstick in the mirror. "It's actually kind of cool. See, people always complain that it's hard to come up with a clever superhero name, but that one's pretty good."
I glared at him.
"I-I mean, that one wouldn't have made sense for you, obviously. Not with your powers," he hastily amended.
"Nice retreat. And keep your voice down," I admonished him. My parents insisted that I keep my bedroom door open whenever I had company over. It was a new rule they instituted not long after I started dressing as a girl, but I suspected that despite my protestations to the contrary, they were worried that Caleb and I might be more than just good friends and wanted to keep the funny business to a minimum.
"But you're sure it's the same guy?"
"Positive."
Caleb thought about that. "Maybe he's like the mirror universe version of Killbane who's got the same powers but this one's a good guy. Did either of them have a goatee?"
"No such luck."
"Hmm," he said. "Hey, I wonder what your mirror universe version would be. I mean, would PG be an evil girl, or would you be the girl, and she changes into an evil guy? Or maybe it's just a gender flip and he'd be a hero? 'Prodigious Guy'...it's not quite the same."
"Caleb..."
"Ooh, just imagine Prodigious Girl as a villainess! A real bad girl. Like...'Lady Prodigy,'" he said. "Oh, wait, no!" he amended as he held his hands up as he mentally pictured the scene. "Voluptua," he said breathlessly.
I started to rub my eyes in irritation, but I stopped when I realized I was about to mess up my eye makeup. "Caleb? Focus, please?"
"D'you think maybe there could be other alternate versions of you? Like a magical girl version? Magically Endowed Prodigious Power Princess to the rescue!"
I raised an eyebrow. "With her best pal, Cutie Caleb the cat?" I deadpanned.
"Hey!" he objected. "That would..." He paused to consider that. "That would actually fit within the genre," he admitted.
"That's it. No more watching Star vs. The Forces of Evil before meetings," I told him.
"Ugh, you're no fun," he said. "But I did a little digging on all the super-enthusiast forums and trackers. Killbane and Killdozer fell off the face of the earth after you fought them, but I also didn't find any mention of them getting arrested, even though there was mention of the mercenaries who were with them getting arrested for the robbery."
"Attempted robbery, you mean."
"No, robbery. That's what it said."
"But we stopped the robbery," I said. "None of this makes sense. Something happened after we left, and the last person who was with them was Harridan."
"Do you know her?"
I shook my head. "No, but Trixie does."
We locked eyes with each other.
"You think it's Demetria?" Caleb said. "Maybe Harridan is part of that Children of the Corn thing she has going on?"
I thought for a second. "I think you mean Village of the Damned."
"Ugh, was that the M. Night Shyamalan movie?"
"No, you're thinking of The Village. That was pretty bad."
"So's this, if you ask me. But do you think Demetria put the whammy on him? Maybe mind controlled him somehow?"
"I don't think so? I don't think her powers work like that. But there were a bunch of supers in her little getaway. Maybe one of them is working with Harridan. I'll see if I can talk to Trixie and get her read on it. Not much I can do about it right now."
Caleb nodded. "Oh, by the way, I got you something." He reached into his bag and handed me a folded-up piece of hot pink fabric. I opened it up and saw that it was a girl's T-shirt with the words "Prodigious Girl" in an eye-catching print.
"Gosh, you shouldn't have," I told him.
"I agonized over the font, but I think it captures the whole 'girl power' thing. I wasn't sure if the pink shirt clashed with the logo, but I figured girls like pink, right?"
"And, why, again...?" I said helplessly.
"I've had to sign up for some pay sites to stay plugged in on all the superhero stuff. It's getting kind of expensive so I figured we could sell some merch online to help cover costs. People have been asking."
I looked up in surprise. "People want to buy stuff with my name on it?"
"Cool, huh?" He pointed at the shirt and pulled out his phone. "Hey, can I get a picture of you wearing it? I said I'd post a picture of what it looked like."
I glanced nervously towards the hallway. "Dude, I can't transform here! They'll see me!" I hissed.
"Well, just put it on and I'll crop it so it's only from the neck down."
I gave him an exasperated look, but from long and bitter experience I knew I was eventually going to cave, anyway. "Fine," I muttered. I tugged at the bottom of the shirt I was wearing and was about to pull it up but suddenly felt self-conscious with Caleb watching. "So, turn around," I told him.
"Why? It's not like they're real."
"That's not the point!" I contended, although I had to admit it actually was a pretty good point. I wasn't sure why it bothered me as it did, but I just glared at him and made a face like the answer was obvious.
Grudgingly he turned around and I quickly took off the printed top I was wearing and picked up the T-shirt. I was pleased to note that the pink still matched the miniskirt I was wearing, although it bothered me a little that I was forming opinions of such things quite so readily.
I pulled the shirt over my head and quickly discovered that Caleb had ordered the wrong size. "It's too small!" I protested.
"It's a girly-fit tee, it's supposed to be snug."
With some effort I wriggled my way into the shirt and pulled it with some difficulty over my breast forms. As I arranged the hair of my wig I looked down in dismay to see the lettering on the shirt stretched tightly over my jutting bosom as the shirt clung to my body. I looked up to see Caleb giving me a lascivious little grin.
"Huh. Maybe you do take a size larger," he smirked.
"Ya think?" I snapped as I tugged vainly at the shirt and struggled to adjust it. "Oh, just take the stupid picture."
He stepped back and seemed to take forever to line up the shot while I posed. Then he started to fiddle with camera settings while I stood there like an idiot with a smile frozen on my face. "Take the freaking picture," I said through gritted teeth.
"Ok, I think I've got it," he said, then the camera flashed. "Let's just do one more to make sure. Gimme kind of a three-quarters pose so I see more the outline of your boobs."
I sighed in disgust and posed again as he took another picture. "Do you think my boobs look big enough yet?" I asked sarcastically.
His face froze as he looked at me. Or, more specifically, as he looked over my shoulder. To the open doorway.
I winced and turned slowly around to face my parents who stood there in the hallway, obviously having heard my proclamation. They looked down at my shirt and then glanced at each other. My dad just shook his head and headed downstairs.
"Well," my mom said. "Isn't that...fun."
I glanced down at my prominent breasts with the logo stretched across them. "She's a superhero," I explained.
"She's really cool," Caleb interjected.
"I'm sure. Well, it's time to go, you can see your friend later."
"Okay. Just give me a second to change my shirt..."
"Oh, don't bother! That looks so—" she stared at my bosom, "—cute on you. I'm sure your cousins will love it." She had a critical look on her face but the tone of her voice said she meant business. "Now grab your purse, say goodbye to your friend, and let's go."
* * * * *
Meeting my cousins...well, I guess it could have been worse. After the initial shocked expressions and mild teasing ("You look silly," my six-year-old cousin Lydia informed me), things quieted down a bit. My older cousin Tommy quickly ditched me which was kind of a bummer since we'd been thick as thieves the previous summer, leaving me to hang out with Lydia who informed me that we would be playing with her dolls, now. She was in the middle of a play date with her little friend Evie so at first I was mostly relegated to being a babysitter for the two girls, but when Evie's mom picked her up, Lydia insisted that I be a more active participant.
My diminutive cousin looked me over and then handed me a blonde Barbie doll in a little pink top and skirt that resembled the outfit I was wearing. "Here. You can be her," she decided.
"Swell."
"Are you supposed to be a girl?" she asked me as she wheeled up the pink Corvette with the Ken doll behind the wheel.
"Um...kinda?" I said as I listlessly put Barbie into the passenger seat. (Even playing with dolls I still didn't get to drive the car!)
"No, he's not, honey," my aunt Jessica corrected me as she cut through the room and gave me a disapproving look.
That look of disapproval pretty much set the tone for our visit. Neither she nor my uncle said ten words to me the entire time, but I overheard some hushed arguments they had with my parents that included the words "permissive" and "abnormal." I paused just long enough to hear my father say, "—son or daughter, it's no business of yours!" They hushed up when they saw me standing within earshot, but I gave my parents a little smile. It was kinda nice to have someone come charging to my rescue for a change.
We'd planned to spend most of the day together—my dad and his brother were huge basketball fans and they'd been looking forward to seeing their rival teams vying for the playoffs—but unfortunately tempers were already starting to flare. I felt guilty being the source of the familial strife, but when Aunt Jessica suggested that we "just go out for a nice lunch somewhere instead," nobody complained.
We went to a friendly little bistro downtown ("since you're...casual" my aunt proclaimed as she looked askance at my T-shirt and how I was filling it out) where the adults made a heroic attempt at small talk. Meanwhile, my cousin Tommy buried his face in his phone in between sneaking obvious glances at my chest.
"This one is my favorite because she's the prettiest," Lydia informed me as she brushed her doll's long blonde locks. During our playtime together, Lydia had made manifestly clear the importance of being pretty.
"So, what does she do?" I asked politely. "Is she like a business lady, or a doctor, or maybe a teacher?"
Lydia looked at me in bewilderment. "She's just pretty," she explained. She didn't add the implied "duh" at the end, but she delivered it with an affected air of condescension that was impressive for her tender years. Prodigy himself could scarcely have done better.
I was about to launch into a lengthy commentary regarding how girls shouldn't allow themselves to be constrained by society's fickle standards of beauty when I realized that I wasn't in much of a position to be critical of Barbie considering that I was currently dressed as a voluptuous and overly made-up blonde girl in a tight-fitting T-shirt. As I pondered that conundrum I looked up just in time to see Tommy sneak a picture of me with his phone.
I sighed heavily.
You know what sucks about being invulnerable? You can't even look at the silverware on the table and fantasize about killing yourself.
Lydia tugged on her mother's elbow. "Mom, I'm bored," she complained.
Lydia was getting antsy so I volunteered to walk around with her, which seemed to suit absolutely nobody—Lydia included—but since nobody else wanted to do it, the two of us left to explore the restaurant. I got a number of other disapproving glares from the other patrons and at first I wondered if they could tell I was a guy until I realized that a girl with my figure in a 'Prodigious Girl' T-shirt probably wasn't winning Daughter of the Year, either.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Lydia asked.
"Uh...no," I said.
"I do," she informed me. "His name's Mason. He lets me have his cookie at lunch 'cause he thinks I'm pretty."
"Lydia, it's not always about being pretty," I said, exasperated. "You can be smart, or funny, or...what is it?" I asked as she made a face.
"I gotta go."
"Go where?"
She gave me an insistent look. "You know. Go."
Reluctantly I brought her into the ladies' room, feeling like an intruder in a sacred space. Lydia seemed more than capable of handling herself, but was taking her sweet time as I waited outside her stall. I felt wildly awkward as women kept walking in and asking if I was in line even as I could hear Lydia quietly humming to herself.
"Lydia, I'll be right outside," I whispered to the stall door before making a hasty exit.
I slumped against the wall next to the bathroom door. "I hate my life, I hate my life," I muttered. Then, from just down the hall through the open door to the alleyway outside I heard the crash of dumpsters, obviously the sound of a garbage truck making its rounds. Classy. Then there was another crash, and I saw a dark van drive up and screech to a halt.
Followed by the unmistakable sound of exo-armor powering up.
I glanced quickly at the ladies' room door and then to the open door leading outside. Keeping one eye on the bathroom door, I edged down the hallway to peek into the alley and saw a plain black van idling there and heard two or three guys arguing followed by what I was now certain was the sound of powered exoskeletal battlesuits. From prior experience I knew suits like that didn't offer much protection, but they increased the user's speed and strength and had some wicked targeting computers built in.
"You sure this is the place?" a guy said.
"Shut up, the shit's inside!" another guy responded.
"What should I do?" came a third voice from inside the van.
"Keep the motor running, dumbass! We'll be right back! And get this shit out of the way!"
Oh, good, Rhodes Scholars. I crept into the alleyway and crouched behind the restaurant's dumpster that was next to the open doorway to get a better look and heard the first two guys break into the building next door. Meanwhile the third guy—the driver—sounded like he was getting out of the van in his own exo-suit, apparently headed to move a dumpster that was blocking the vehicle's path.
"What are you doing?" Lydia asked from right next to me.
Startled, I turned to face her just as the driver kicked the dumpster out of the way and it smashed into the one we were hidden behind with enough force to knock it twenty feet. Or it would have, if I hadn't caught it one-handed.
Lydia's jaw dropped as she saw what I had done.
"How did you do that?" she gasped.
"Who said that?" the driver demanded. He had been heading to get back into the van and rushed around to the passenger side where we were concealed. He then roughly muscled the dumpster out of the way to uncover our hiding place. But we weren't there anymore.
Currently we were hovering thirty feet overhead as I held on to an astonished Lydia and motioned for her to be quiet. Any other time I would have loved to stop and appreciate the look of wonder on her face. I'd gotten so matter-of-fact about my powers that seeing the gobsmacked expression on my little cousin's face reminded me how incredible all this really was.
Unfortunately I was a little too busy grappling with how much danger we were in. My first priority was to keep Lydia safe and even if I had wanted to throw down with these losers my CosFit device was back in my purse in the restaurant. And these knuckleheads were obviously of the "shoot first and ask questions later" variety. I hated to just let them go, but I figured if they made a clean and quiet getaway at least nobody would get hurt.
That's when I heard the sound of the burglar alarm go off inside the building. Because of course these idiots would set off the alarm.
Well, that changed the math. Now they'd be heavily armed, stupid, and panicky...never a good combination. I figured I had to intervene or people were going to get hurt. But I needed to do it quickly and quietly. Reluctantly I looked at Lydia and whispered something to her. She nodded back.
The driver also heard the alarm and made for the driver's seat. But as he rounded the back of the van he stopped dead in his tracks, obviously not expecting to see a six-year-old girl standing next to the van.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked.
"I'm helping."
"Yeah, well, I don't need your hel—" he said as I mugged him from behind and slammed him against the van.
"I dunno, I think she's doing a pretty good job," I said as I dumped his unconscious body into the van. I then rushed over to Lydia and touched her face desperately. "Are you okay, sweetie?"
"Yeah."
"You're sure you're okay?" I repeated. "Oh, I shouldn't have done that. I should not have done that," I said. I couldn't imagine the guy would just open fire on a defenseless little girl, but that was stupid to have used her that way. "Okay, I have to get you someplace safe. We—"
"C'mon, move it!" a guy yelled from inside the building.
I could hear the two other guys coming and knew we had to get out of there before they showed up and started a firefight. But I also needed to keep them contained. Unfortunately every thought I had to disable the van in the next few seconds would either be noisy or put them on their guard that a hero was nearby.
I gathered up Lydia. "Hold on to me really tight, okay?" I said. Then I paused and looked at her. "You know you should never, ever, ever do anything like what we're doing right now, right?"
"Uh huh."
"Okay, good."
A few seconds later the two guys burst into the alley. They were holding what looked like particle beam rifles along with whatever swag they'd just boosted. But as soon as they emerged they stopped short and looked around, perplexed.
"Where the fuck's the van?"
"That idiot must have moved it!"
Fortunately for me neither one of them thought to look straight up as I hefted the van over my head and flew quietly upwards while Lydia clung onto me. Thankfully it was a short building and as quietly as I could, I put the van down on the roof.
"Well, what the fuck do we do now?"
"Shit!" the other one swore, obviously straining his mental faculties. "That pussy must have bolted when he heard the alarm. Cops'll be here any minute, we're gonna have to carjack a ride."
Great, more panicking and more shooting. Why was there never a hero around when you needed one? But at least Lydia was safe. Then as I looked at her, I had an idea. "Lydia? You're going to be safe up here. And you're being super brave. But I need you to do one more thing for me, okay?"
"Okay."
"I want you to stay hidden here, count to ten, and then make a whole lot of noise. But keep out of sight, got it?"
She nodded.
Ten seconds later the two guys had edged closer to the end of the alleyway, obviously waiting for the traffic light to change so they could jump out and make their move. Then from above came the sound of Lydia's shrill little voice.
"You two guys are fart heads!" she cried, followed by a raspberry that was impressive in both volume and duration.
"What the..." one of the guys said as they turned to look upwards. "Dude, is that our van?" he asked.
"Ahem," I said from behind them.
I was still floating two feet above the ground, so as they turned they only had a moment to glimpse my Prodigious Girl shirt on prominent display. So, confident that neither one of them was looking at my face, I slammed their heads together and knocked them both unconscious.
I quickly tore the power packs out of their armor and tossed the two goons and their friend into the dumpster and retrieved Lydia. ("I used the F word," she mischievously informed me.) I could hear the sounds of sirens approaching so we discreetly reentered the restaurant and after I washed my hands, Lydia and I had a little chat about the importance of keeping secrets.
"Where have you been?" my mom asked as we returned.
"Just cleaning up," I said as they all peered out the window at the police cruisers that had gathered outside. Across the street, I could see people pointing at the roof of the building next door and...crap, I knew I'd forgotten something. Oh, well.
Lydia tugged at her mom's elbow insistently and I held my breath.
My aunt seemed more interested in the growing crowd on the street, but ultimately Jessica drew the line at being prodded with a Barbie doll. "What?" she huffed irritably.
"Mommy, can Chris be my babysitter from now on? I like her."
I covered my smile as my parents gave me puzzled looks of approval. But as my aunt and uncle scoffed and went back to looking out the window, I noticed that Lydia had returned to playing with her Barbie doll, having abandoned the hair brush in favor of fashioning her napkin into a little cape.
* * * * *
I entered Prodigy's garage a few days later to find him working on the computer, but as soon as he saw me he blanked out the display and switched it to a news feed.
"You're late," he growled.
"Sorry, there was an industrial accident down by the docks." That was true, but I'd actually stopped it an hour earlier. After that I'd gotten involved talking with some grateful people and some fans who wanted to take pictures, which I viewed as one of the perks of the job. For all the ogling and junk it was one of the few times I didn't really mind being a girl, or at least I didn't think about it as much. It was kind of nice to just be appreciated.
Usually in those situations Prodigy preferred to leave the scene before the reporters arrived, but on those occasions when that wasn't possible he'd usually just sit brooding in the background. At first I followed his lead until one caper where a busload of schoolkids had been involved. An ambulance had taken the injured driver away and the kids were crying, so I sat with them and entertained them with stories to keep them distracted, and at first I didn't even notice how all the cameras had taken an interest in us. But after that, Prodigy informed me that henceforth I should handle "all the touchy-feely bullshit."
This time, part of the reason I stuck around with the fans as long as I did was that there was an actual HeroVerse reporter who wanted to interview both me and the other hero who'd helped with the rescue. That was kind of a big deal since usually it was just a news drone that flew in to snap a few pictures. So as I waited for the reporter to interview me, I listened in as she asked the other hero questions like his opinion on the proposed anti-vigilante legislation and if he was concerned about the recent surge in gang activity.
When she turned to me, I was all excited. I felt so important to be asked my opinion on such matters.
"Prodigious Girl!" she said brightly. "Meggan McKay, HeroVerse News. So, I guess I'll start with the most obvious question: Are you seeing anybody?"
That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the interview. She smoothly transitioned into such hard-hitting journalistic questions as:
"I love your costume. Did you design it yourself? Do you consider yourself a winter color scheme?"
"Do you think the short cape look is here to stay?"
"Your makeup always looks so good, even after a super-fight. Any makeup tips for the girls out there? What skin care products do you use?"
Although I have to say my favorite question of the interview was, "Okay, real talk, girlfriend. You're obviously very comfortable with your body, but do you ever feel like your bodacious figure holds you back?"
I blinked once. "You mean like being treated differently? Like maybe feeling that the way I look was being used as an excuse to make very personal assumptions about me, or having people just assume I'm totally superficial?"
"Yeah! Has that ever come up?"
I stared at her incredulously. "...Sure."
Still, I guess I couldn't complain. The recognition was actually rather rewarding in its way and I was glad to be helping people. But my relationship with Prodigy was another story entirely, and I definitely didn't feel like I had been getting as much out of the partnership as I'd hoped. But I had something to ask and figured I should butter him up first.
"Hey, how'd that thing with the Liberty Squadron go the other day? I didn't hear anything about it in the news."
"Yes, surprisingly, not every crisis gets news coverage. Sometimes you just save the day or die in obscurity without the spotlight and adulation of the crowd. Not all heroes are glory hounds," he said. "Unlike that asshole Arcturus," he muttered.
"Asshole," he repeated as I mouthed along silently. Then I moved closer to the old man and perched myself on the desk where he was typing away at the computer. He made an annoyed grunt and grabbed some papers from the desk and swatted at my butt to shoo me off the table.
"Oh, which reminds me," he said as he typed on the keyboard, "I saw something you might be interested in."
A moment later, there on the screen was me giving my HeroVerse interview. I couldn't help but notice that at one point when they did a split screen of me and the other hero the camera had framed him in a tight head-and-shoulders shot, whereas for me it was shot wider. And lower.
"I guess that's why they call it the boob tube," Prodigy said.
"I can explain..."
"Oh, wait. This is my favorite part," he said as he turned up the volume.
On the screen, a bubbly Meggan took one of my hands and held it up for the camera. "Oh, I love this color! Zoom in on her nails," she told the cameraman. Then she asked me, "What color is this, anyway?"
"It's, uh, 'Fierce and Fearless,'" I volunteered weakly.
Prodigy paused the playback there and I winced as I saw my pained and embarrassed expression on the screen. I suspected it was probably the same exact same face I was making that very moment.
"It's not how it looks," I said.
Prodigy wagged his finger in the air. "No need to apologize, this is important stuff! In fact, you've inspired me. I'm scheduling a mani-pedi for the both of us. We deserve a spa day," he said patronizingly before rolling his eyes and returning to work on the computer. "Brave new world," he muttered.
Chagrined, I stood there quietly for a few seconds and counted them off in my head so that I didn't speak up too soon after my upbraiding. Cautiously I straightened up and held my hands behind me. "Sooo...I had a lead on something I thought we could check out?" I volunteered.
He sniffed derisively.
"What?"
"Like I'm going to take any advice from someone who reads Teen Beat to know the trendiest lip gloss to wear."
"What the heck is Teen Beat?" I asked, bewildered.
"It's a magazine!"
"What the heck is a magazine?"
He stared at me in shock.
"God, I'm kidding, relax, I know what a magazine is. No idea what that teen thingy is, though." He went back to work on the computer again and I bit my lip uncertainly and edged closer.
"Say, that database of dossiers on all the supers you gave me...is it complete?"
He eyed me suspiciously. "It has everything I'd trust you with. Why?"
"It's something weird," I said as I reached past him to type on the computer. He bristled every time I touched it, but recently he'd come to trust me enough to use it to look up some reference information for our cases. "It's this guy," I said as Killbane's file appeared on the screen, which I noticed listed him as being still at large. "I've fought him before, but the other night when I fought Melody Malady he showed up to help me, but this time he said he was a hero named Blamestorm. But I didn't see that entry in the database."
"So?"
"So, he was like a completely different person. He was...nice."
He scoffed. "He played you and you fell for it. He probably had a grudge against Malady and didn't want to throw down with a hero."
I shook my head. "I don't think so. And it's more than that. The last time I saw Killbane my friends and I took him down, but a heroine named Harridan stepped in before we could turn him in to the police. I think Harridan is working for someone named Demetria Valasellis, and I'm thinking that maybe she did something to him."
"Did what?" he snapped.
"I don't know! He just seemed different. You know, not so...evil."
Prodigy stood up from the computer and got right in my face. "What are you, a fucking child? Oh, never mind, of course you are. Looking at people like knights in shining armor or evil monsters. Well, I got news for you, little princess, but the world's a lot more complicated than that."
"But—I just—"
"You want to know what you did? You let a villain go, and now the rest of us have to clean up after you. Now drop this."
"But—"
"Drop it!" he demanded as he stalked past me.
I watched as he stormed out and I turned to look up at the computer screen that still had the image of Killbane on it. "Not likely," I said to myself. And I knew just who to talk to.
* * * * *
So...here's the thing about superheroes.
Superheroes are really easily to manipulate, and I'm not just talking in the "evil mastermind scheme" kind of way, either. After all, it takes a certain kind of person to wear brightly-colored tights in public and fight for nebulous concepts like truth and justice, because in my experience most ordinary people require slightly more tangible and achievable things to fight for. A parking place close to the mall, for instance. But heroes almost always have big egos, which makes us easy to predict and manipulate. For example, there used to be this four-piece instrumental street band that would play on this one corner and whenever a superhero fight broke out—which would happen more often than you might imagine—they'd break out into a pretty capable rendition of John Williams' theme from Superman. It was outstanding. That quickly became the safest street corner in Faraday City what with all the young heroes who would patrol through there in the hopes that some thugs would start something. Of course it wasn't until some time later that it came out that the band was actually hired by a crime boss who wanted to draw heroes away from her operations on the other side of the city.
But you know what? I still miss those guys.
So my notion of meeting with Enchantrix to suggest to her that her mentor might be involved in something shady...I knew it was going to be a hard pill for her to swallow. Even after the tremendous bullshit that Prodigy had put me through, I bet I would have leaped to his defense, too. Probably. Maybe. "Leaped" is a strong word. Maybe "moseyed" to his defense. You get the idea.
Which is why I asked Trixie to meet me where I did. Here on Astral Bridge where I'd almost quit after that first fight, and where she'd talked me out of it. Here, where we first became friends.
I watched the skies and soon saw the telltale glimmer of her teleportal as she approached from over the line of buildings across the street. A blink later, she was standing next to me in a flash.
"Hey, Peej! So what's up you couldn't talk over the communicator? You were all mysterious. Is everything okay with Prodigy?"
"He's fine," I said slowly. "Look, Trixie, there's something I need to talk to you about..."
And I laid it all out for her. I reminded her about the big fight at the warehouse and told her all the things I'd learned. I showed her the database entry for Killbane and told her how he'd fought beside me as Blamestorm. I even told her about meeting him at the mall in our secret identities, though I carefully omitted the part about me not actually being a girl.
"And you think Harridan is behind this?" she asked.
"We left her with Killbane and Killdozer, but neither of them was arrested. She must know something."
"Well, what happened to the father? Killdozer?"
"I don't know. I have...someone...looking into it, but right now it looks like he's disappeared." She nodded, and I pressed on. "Trixie, you said that you and Mari knew Harridan. How?"
"We met her at—" Her face turned to stone. "No."
"I'm not accusing—"
"Yes, you are! Peej, there's no way Demetria is behind this. You don't know her. She's the gentlest soul I've ever met. I owe her so much. And you think she's—what? Brainwashing people?"
"Okay, so maybe it's not her. Maybe Harridan is working with someone else at the Sanctuary."
She shook her head. "No. Not possible."
"Why?"
"Because Harridan's disappeared, too. She hasn't been to the Sanctuary, and Demetria rescinded Harridan's access after condemning her violent methods. Nobody has seen her in weeks."
"And that doesn't seem suspicious?"
"Of course! But Demetria never leaves. Harridan must be working with someone else on the outside."
"Maybe," I said. "Look, Trixie, I need to talk to Demetria again, and Prodigy won't listen to me about this, so—"
"You told Prodigy?" she said accusingly.
"What else could I do?"
"You could have come to me, for starters!" she cried. "Peej, Demetria trusts you! I trust you! This isn't a conspiracy! That old man has got you looking for villains behind every tree."
"Look, just let me talk to Demetria—"
"Why? So you can accuse her? Peej, there is no way I'm letting you screw this up for me. I'll talk to her."
"What? No!" I said in a panic. "If I'm right and she is in on it—"
"Gods, will you listen to yourself?"
I held her by the shoulders. "Trixie, please, I'm begging you, don't get involved. I'll work on finding Harridan. Just promise me you'll stay away from Demetria until I'm sure."
She shrugged out of my grasp and looked at me seriously. "You want to go digging for dirt, you start with that old fossil you're working for. From what I've heard—" She shook her head. "You're the one who should be watching her back. Don't worry about watching mine."
"Trixie!" I shouted as she disappeared in a flash. I almost took off after her but I had no idea what else there was to say.
But one way or the other I had to get to the bottom of this mess.
* * * * *
So, here's me. You know, a pretty ordinary teenage guy who's occasionally a superheroine that deals with inconsequential little issues like saving people's lives and protecting the city from the creeping horrors of the unknown. Oh, and in order to protect my secret identity I was also forced to pretend to be a crossdresser with a breast fetish in my spare time. Which, y'know, had the side effect of destroying any meager social life that I might have had left over after being a secret superhero. But with all that going on, you know the hardest thing I had to deal with in my life?
School.
Yes, because from 8:10 until 2:55 every day, I had to pretend like everything was normal. Since school was the only time I was still permitted by my parents to dress as a guy, you might think it was a relief to just be a normal teenager with normal problems like Trigonometry, acne, or trying to get a date (preferably with a girl). Unfortunately, my classmates were well aware that everything was anything but normal, and while my superheroing remained on the down low, my crossdressing was very much on the...'way up high,' I guess. So for me to show up dressed as a guy every day was largely viewed as madcap irony.
I tell you all this not to bore you with the mundane aspects of what was the last semi-normal bastion of my life, but so that you will understand that given all the other stuff I had going on, I could perhaps be forgiven for being on my Very Last Nerve.
The day had started off like any other, and before the first bell rang I made a point to talk to Leah Paredes. She was the girl in my study group who had come to my defense when I showed up on her doorstep looking like one of the girls from the cheerleading squad and everybody else in the group wanted nothing to do with me. I was still smarting over my falling out with Trixie and realized that friends were in short supply these days, especially ones who would stick their necks out for me.
I saw Leah by her locker chatting with a couple of other girls, and as I approached them her friends started to snicker.
"Love the pierced ears, girlfriend," one of them said to me, causing the other to laugh.
I let the comment pass. "Hey, Leah, can I talk to you for a second?" I asked.
She excused herself and as they wandered off I heard one of the girls make some comment about wannabe lesbianism.
"Just ignore them," Leah said.
"Why do you hang out with them, anyway? You're so much better than they are."
"They're not usually so bad. I think they're just pissed that you make a better girl than they do," she said with a grin.
I felt my face flush. "Um..."
"Oh my gosh, are you blushing? I swear, you are so cute."
Wait, did she just call me cute? I thought. I tried to focus. "I, uh, just wanted to apologize for what happened at the study group," I said.
"What are you apologizing for? Two weeks ago I wore a polka dot bow in my hair and people are still giving me grief about it. I can't imagine what you must be going through. If anybody should apologize, it's me. I'm sorry about shuffling you out of there, but if my parents had seen you like that, well, it wouldn't have been good. They don't want me hanging around with you."
"Oh," I said, trying to hide how dejected I felt. "Well, I under—"
"They're idiots," she declared.
"Look, Leah, I don't want to get you in any trouble—"
"Yeah, well, I don't want other people telling me who I can have as friends, so I guess you've got a problem."
I smiled in spite of myself. The crossdressing had made me a social pariah at school, and my superheroics had eroded my free time to the point that having or making friends was a luxury I couldn't afford. Caleb had stood by me, but the idea that a girl might be interested in me even as a friend never crossed my mind.
I cleared my throat and shrugged slightly. "Say, Leah, I—OOF!"
Out of nowhere, some idiot had come up behind me and shoved me into the row of lockers. I still had all of my powers so I could have easily shrugged it off, but then my would-be attacker might wonder why a scrawny kid like me had the staying power of an NFL linebacker. So instead I allowed myself to be shoved and then stumbled and dropped my books for good measure so as not to disappoint my attacker. I was becoming a master of physical comedy.
But did I lose my cool? I did not.
"Hey!" I complained.
"Aww, what's the matter, Sissy Chrissy? You more comfortable in your high heels?"
I turned and faced my attacker. "Ash," I said through gritted teeth.
"Where are your tits, you little fag?" he taunted. "You look so sad pretending to be a boy."
Someone laughed, and I spotted Wade standing right behind him, backing up Ash as usual. They of course didn't know I was Prodigious Girl, so they had no reason to suspect I had super powers. Meanwhile, since as Quasarblaze and Triggerhappy they relied on technology for their heroics, I figured they were probably just ordinary teens right now. Blaze claimed to have some affinity for technology, but I didn't think that would matter if this got physical. But still, I couldn't afford to take that chance. Secret identities notwithstanding, if a metahuman fight broke out in a crowded school there would almost certainly be casualties.
Since I didn't want to escalate this any further, I took a calming breath and said nothing.
Leah glanced at me, looking a little surprised that I wasn't going to say anything in my defense.
"Get lost, Ash," she said.
"Oh, and here's the fag hag," Ash said, eliciting another chuckle from a second guy who stood next to Wade. Terrific. Ash had another minion.
"Leah, please," I said quietly. "It's okay."
She shot me a look that said it was decidedly not okay, but then she didn't have any idea the firestorm that she was in danger of setting off.
"See, it's okay! Chrissy likes all the attention from real men," Ash jeered.
Now, just for the record, I'd like to point out the incredibly awesome patience and restraint that I was displaying here. Not just for all this nonsense or even for ruining what was quite probably my only chance with a girl. Not even for all the put-downs and innuendo that they had given me as Prodigious Girl. But also for all the bullying Ash put me through before I got my powers when he'd taken advantage of my weakness just so he could feel better about himself. And now, here I was being handed a golden opportunity to get revenge, and I was the better man. I was not going to sink to his level. Ever.
"Oh, no purse, either? Where do you keep your lipstick if you want to suck a guy off in the bathroom?"
Just then, another guy's voice cut in. It was Trace Buckley, another guy in our class.
"Hey, Ash, you seem awfully worried about who's sucking whose dicks. Worried that you might be left out?"
As Trace moved closer I noticed that our altercation was starting to attract a crowd.
"Stay out of this, fag, or I'm coming for you next."
"That's funny, I was about to make you the same offer," Trace retorted.
Enraged, Ash launched himself at Trace and slammed the other teen up against the row of lockers. Wade, ever the wingman, started to jump in, as did the other guy.
And that, dear Reader, is when I lost it. When I saw those bullies tormenting someone else—someone who'd had the courage to come to my defense!—it just sparked something in me. I'd like to think that in an alternate timeline I calmly interposed myself and found a way to defuse the situation.
As it was, however...well, it's possible that I may have overreacted just a teensy tiny bit.
* * * * *
That evening my dad got home from work early. My grandmother was being honored with a distinguished author award for her latest bestselling novel and we were going into Manhattan for the dinner that evening. She'd written a torrid superhero tell-all and while my parents were never particularly thrilled with how Gram enjoyed rubbing elbows with the superhero community, it was an olive branch on my mom's part to attend. She and Gram had some kind of falling out many years before—I didn't know what it was about and my parents never discussed it—but they'd recently mended their fences and were trying to reconnect.
Unfortunately for me, Gram had been one of the original "Summer of Love" hippies and had been disturbingly enthusiastic when she'd learned that I'd started dressing like a girl. The first time she saw me in a dress I thought she was going to keel over from the excitement. She grilled me endlessly on my plans to become a woman, took great delight in sending me dresses and outfits, and would not be dissuaded even when I told her that my dressing this way was strictly temporary.
"Of course it is, dear," she said with a wink.
And so it was that when Dad entered the house that evening he walked in to find me sitting on the sofa in the living room and prettily made up in an outfit that Gram had sent me that consisted of an eye-catching coral lace wrap dress and sling-back heels. (But in an act of willful defiance I did not wear the cute matching poufy feathered hair clip. Vive la resistance!) I also wore a very sour expression that I'd hoped would properly convey my disapproval of this injustice, although I'm pretty sure it came across as "petulant princess."
Mom was standing right behind me and immediately made eye contact with my father, who used his razor-sharp parenting skills to quickly surmise that Something Was Up. I could clearly see the "fight or flight" response cross over his face.
"Tell your father what you did!" Mom commanded me. I hadn't even opened my mouth before she demanded of my father, "Do you know what your son did today?" Dad started to open his mouth, but she cut him off, too. "He got into a fight!"
Dad looked at me in surprise. "Dressed like that?" He sounded impressed.
"No, it was with a boy at school. He's been suspended for a week!"
Dad nodded slowly as he processed that information. I could tell that he seemed a little thrown by the situation and at the time I suspected he was trying to reconcile this new evidence with my otherwise untarnished reputation. However, with the benefit of hindsight I've since come to suspect that while years before he might have prepared himself for the possibility that he might have to one day discipline his son for getting into a fight, he probably never envisioned that selfsame son being dressed as a junior bridesmaid at the time.
He cocked his head uncertainly. "So, did you win?"
Mom was aghast. "Stephen, we are not encouraging this!"
"No, no, of course not," Dad agreed. "Fighting is wrong, Chris," he told me solemnly. But with his back to Mom, he raised his eyebrows in inquiry. I gave him a little nod, and he made a satisfied little "Hmm."
Mom looked between us suspiciously. "We should get going or we're going to be late," she said.
The drive up to New York was quiet and tense, punctuated occasionally with Mom's whispers to Dad about their obvious failings as parents while we all pretended that I couldn't hear them perfectly well from the back seat.
Eventually, I had enough. "Don't you at least want to hear my side of it?" I asked.
"That was inexcusable behavior, Christopher," my mom insisted.
Ugh, I hated it when she used my full name. It was time to break out the heavy artillery.
"You're always saying how we should listen to others and consider other points of view, but I guess that doesn't apply when the guy with the other perspective is wearing a dress," I said bitterly. I knew it was a cheap shot, but they were asking for it. Also, I was still nursing a grudge from two summers earlier when I'd had a chance to go to Space Camp and instead they'd sent me to debate camp, and I'd vowed to use the skills I'd learned there to make them rue that decision at every opportunity. Silence fell within the car and I noted with satisfaction the guilty glance my parents shared.
"They said you almost broke another boy's arm," my mom said accusingly. "They said you bullied him."
"Now, that—that is—okay, that is technically true," I admitted. "But there's more to it than that!"
"Go on."
"Well, now that everybody in school knows that I dress like this—" I paused significantly in the hopes of inflicting some guilt on them, but they didn't react so I continued, "—I get teased all the time. It's really juvenile, like calling me a faggot, or 'Sissy Chrissy.'"
I hated to admit it, but the name calling really did get under my skin. Though honestly what really pissed me off is how they came up with a blindingly obvious taunt like "Sissy Chrissy" and then acted like it was the height of cleverness because it rhymed. You think that's something? Try coming up with an original quip on the fly to taunt the Tangerine Centipede while you're dodging his poison quills. I mean, "Sissy Chrissy"...c'mon, really? I bet that moron lost sleep staying up nights to come up with that lame insult.
"That's still no reason to get into a fight," Mom huffed indignantly.
"I didn't!" I protested. "Ash and these other guys were hassling me again, calling me names and shoving me around and calling me gay and stuff, and that's when Trace jumped in. He's really gay."
"Christopher!"
"No, no, I mean he's actually gay! He came out and everything. Anyway, so he jumps to my defense and then the guys started in on him, calling him a fag, and the next thing I know, Ash pounces on him and pretty soon Trace is getting his butt kicked by three guys."
"Then what happened?" Dad asked.
"This one girl ran off to get help, but I couldn't just stand there and watch him get beat up after he'd tried to stand up for me, so I pulled Ash off and then got him in an arm lock and threatened to break his arm if they didn't back off," I said as I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt. "But I wasn't really going to do it."
"Hm," Mom said. "And that's when the Vice Principal showed up?"
I cleared my throat nervously. "He came along...a little after."
Mom turned around in her seat to look me in the eyes. She raised an eyebrow.
"Um...when I had Ash in the arm lock, I may have...encouraged...him to tell everyone how jealous he is of sissies."
My dad coughed once to cover his short laugh as my mom gave a little grumble of disapproval. "Well, I suppose that's not so bad—"
"...before I made him sing the sissy song," I added with a wince.
"The what?"
"I, uh, had him make up a song on the spot about how great it is to be a sissy and sing it for everybody." I looked down in my lap, suddenly very interested in my manicure.
Now, dear Reader, let me be very clear on this point. What I did was wrong, wrong, wrong. In a moment of weakness I used my superior strength to humiliate an opponent who stood no chance against me. I was a bully by any meaningful definition of the term, and I will forever bear the shame of that moment when I used my powers for my own selfish purposes. And when I think back to Ashton Raleigh singing his sissy song about how his name was Nancy and he loved to kiss the boys, I will always think: totally worth it.
I wasn't so sure that my parents would agree.
"Mmm-hm," my mother intoned as she sat back in her seat. I saw her glance over at my father.
"Anything else?" my father said. He had a funny tone to his voice.
I fretted with the long hair of my wig. "I...might have invited him over to the house after school to play dress-up," I offered. "But I don't think he's going to take me up on it."
The car fell silent, with the sound of the road outside the only noise. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign.
Then my parents both burst out laughing.
"F-fighting is wrong," my mom giggled. "You should be very ashamed of yourself."
My dad was trembling as he struggled to restrain his laughter. "Your mother's right," he whimpered. "I'm v-very disappointed in you, son." His shoulders shook as he noiselessly laughed and he covered his mouth with one hand and took ragged breaths as he tried to regain his composure.
As they calmed down, I looked up shyly and gave a wry little grin as Mom peered over her shoulder at me and just smiled and shook her head. Then she reached into her purse and handed me the poufy feathered hair clip that I'd left at home.
"Mom..." I whined.
"Grandma wants to see you in it," she explained. "But if you'd prefer not to, I'm sure she'd love to hear you perform the 'sissy song' instead?" she added with a smirk.
I quickly affixed the clip into my wig and looked at her apprehensively.
"Mmm-hm," she intoned again as she settled back in her seat and shared a sly smile with my dad.
* * * * *
At the awards dinner Gram was in her element and worked the room like a woman half her age. It was a semi-formal affair, and everyone was in suits and dresses except for the handful of heroes and heroines who were present who had been the subjects of her semi-fictional book. For my own part, I felt even more ridiculous than usual and felt totally out of place in my more grown-up dress, although thankfully nobody else seemed to think so. My impersonation had improved so that most people just assumed that I was a young woman—albeit one generously endowed for my age—and more than once I caught men glance over at my mom's bosom after looking at me, obviously wondering where I'd inherited it from. After the scene repeated itself a few times, I had half a mind to whip out one of my falsies and show them.
My parents seemed uncomfortable as well. At first I thought that it was because of me, but the moment we'd entered the main hall with the oversize posterboard display of the book cover—Tattered Capes, Shattered Lives by Barbara Olsen—I noticed them share an uneasy glance. Their apprehension only seemed to be magnified when they saw the heroes in attendance who were milling around. Feeling more than a bit awkward myself, I discreetly tugged at my dress and wondered if I might have been more comfortable had I been there as Prodigious Girl. It might have been worth it just to see the looks on my parents' faces.
However, I did get a little smile out of seeing Mom and Dad bend over backwards to avoid any gendered pronouns when referring to me. They obviously saw the wisdom in letting people assume I was a girl but also couldn't bring themselves to call me their daughter, which led to some amusing linguistic dodges.
"This is Chris. Chris is our...pride and joy. Sixteen now and doing very well in school," my dad said to an older couple.
"What a lovely young woman! I bet a girl as pretty as you is driving your father crazy bringing home boyfriends."
I affected a cheerful smile. "That would be pretty crazy-making, huh, Dad?"
He shot me a look that seemed to go over the heads of the elderly couple. "Chris has been busy with...extracurricular activities," he volunteered.
"Oh, are you a cheerleader, dear?"
"Nope. Ultimate Frisbee."
"Oh, an athlete. Do you get that from your mother or your father?"
"You know, I kind of take after both," I said with a smile as my parents shifted uncomfortably. I felt a little guilty, but if it gave them a taste of the junk I had to put up with, I figured it'd be good for them.
My smug attitude evaporated when my grandmother came breezing over as she made her rounds. After saying hello and gushing over how adult and feminine I looked in my dress, she made a point of presenting me to everyone as "my transgender granddaughter," much to the vexation of myself and my parents. Things came to a head when she made a point of introducing us to a doctor who specialized in plastic surgery and Gram started in on my parents about finding me a therapist that specialized in transgender issues so that I could begin a regimen of female hormones. At that point, Dad finally intervened.
"Chris hasn't made any decisions about making this permanent yet," he said. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment and I wanted to cry out that the last thing I wanted was to spend another day like this, but I knew that would start a fight that wouldn't end well.
"But of course we'll support whatever decision he makes," Mom added.
Gram gave me a knowing look. "Well, I'm sure that whatever she chooses, it'll be the right thing for her," she said, relishing the feminine pronouns. Then she leaned over confidentially and added, "But don't wait too long on the hormones, dear. The sooner you start, the more likely you'll get the bosom you're hoping for," she said as she glanced significantly at my prominent chest.
Desperate to change the subject, Mom cast her eyes around the room and looked disdainfully at a scantily-clad superheroine seated over by the bar. "Ugh, there's that Decoy woman," my mom said. "What's she doing here?"
I took a look in that direction and even in the crowd she was unmistakable. She sported an unnatural fire-red mane of hair and was tall, slim, and with an eye-poppingly curvaceous figure that was packed into a skintight costume that looked more like a strappy bathing suit than something you'd wear into a metahuman fight, much less an awards dinner. Her full name was Double-Decoy (two guesses why) and I recalled that she had some kind of illusory powers which she used for creating erotic fantasies in the minds of her sexual partners. She'd had some brushes with the law, but nothing violent...her big claim to fame was that she'd been implicated in a prostitution scandal a couple years earlier involving some celebrities and politicians which had made her a darling with the tabloids.
"She calls herself Beguiler now," Gram corrected. "She had a small part in my book, but she got her nose out of joint when I got rid of her character. I'm a little surprised she bothered to come, but then she never met an open bar she didn't like."
Mom was still staring at the woman in disgust. "I think it's contemptible. Dressing like that in public is bad enough, but using her powers for...that. Ugh."
Gram smiled. "Goodness. I had no idea I raised such a prude."
"I'm nothing of the sort! But 'heroes' like that are hardly appropriate role models for impressionable—wait, where's Chris?"
I was nearly out of earshot and halfway across the room as I made a beeline for Beguiler. I heard my mom's hissed attempt to get my attention, but I ignored it as I walked up to the heroine, who had just gotten another drink from the bartender. I was surprised to note that she was alone, but as I got closer I got an idea as to why.
Beguiler was, to use the parlance of my people, a total ho skank. She had an amazing body and a pretty enough face, but everything about her seemed to be going for shock value, from her skimpy costume to her overdramatic makeup to her crown of teased hair in that unnatural red color. I was only sixteen, so to see a woman wield her sexuality that aggressively made me feel awkward and uncomfortable even as I admit it caught my interest. However, my experience as Prodigious Girl definitely tempered that reaction, and while the uptight crowd at this shindig might find her unapproachable, to me she was just another delinquent.
"Um, hi," I said, trying to get her attention.
She looked me up and down and snickered. She seemed to be in her cups, metaphorically speaking. (Speaking literally, it didn't appear that her costume was providing much help in that regard.) "God, it's true, Barb has a tranny in the family. She's always looking for ways to promote her image as a progressive champion, I bet she must have creamed her post-menopausal panties when she found out," she taunted before taking a long drink from her glass.
"She didn't say. My name's Chris. You're Beguiler, right?"
"Yeah, I don't do autographs, and despite those melons I think you're a little young for the services I provide. Look me up in a couple years, though. I'd love to get inside your head and find out what's going on with all this. It's kinky."
"You have no idea. I wanted to ask you about your name change. You used to be Double-Decoy, didn't you?"
She seemed somewhere between drunk, amused, and slightly disappointed that she hadn't been able to get a rise out of me. But at least I seemed to have captured her interest. "Yeah, sure," she said as she leaned against the bar and took another drink.
"How'd you get the name Beguiler? You had to go register it, right? How'd you know it was available?"
She laughed once. "What am I, a schmuck? I'm just gonna go down there and try a bunch of names until one finally hits?"
I sighed. "Well, okay, so how'd you do it?"
"I found the guy that was camping on the name. He was an unascended meta who'd registered it and I traded him for a few bucks. And one unforgettable night," she added with a smirk.
I nodded slowly. After the Turning Point hit Faraday City, the majority of the city's inhabitants were tagged as metahuman potentials, although only a tiny fraction ever actually "ascended" to unlock their abilities. But anybody who was metagene-positive could register even if they never actually became a superhero, and many of them did so just to camp on the names. It became quite the cottage industry after the hero registration system was developed, much to the annoyance of people like myself who actually wanted to use the hero name they chose rather than just sell it for a profit.
"So then he gave up the name and you snatched it up," I said.
"You thinking of becoming a superhero, kid? Maybe you can find whoever has 'Blonde Bombshell' reserved and see if they'd part with it for...whatever you're willing to offer."
I ignored her and tried to imagine Killbane registering as a hero. It's possible that the name "Blamestorm" just happened to be available, but if someone else had registered it first maybe I could track them down and they could help fill in the blanks. But as I considered that, another thought occurred to me, something that had been scratching at the back of my brain.
"My grandmother said she wrote your character out of her book. Why'd she do that?"
Beguiler slammed her glass on the bar. "'Cause she's an idiot who doesn't know a good thing when she sees it!"
"If you don't want to say..." I said as I held up my hands in surrender.
"Hey, fuck you, sugar tits. The old lady goes on about narrative arcs and shit, but at the end of the day, she just didn't want me in there because my being around messed up the sugar-coated cupcake she's trying to pass off as history."
My face fell as I could feel a piece of the puzzle falling into place. "W-what?"
"You heard me. She's selling a product, princess. And if someone gets in the way of selling that pretty 'triumph of the human spirit' bullshit she's shoveling to people, she just gets rid of 'em."
"Get rid of the person who doesn't fit with the new narrative..." I muttered to myself. I stumbled back on my heels as Beguiler flagged down the bartender and ordered another drink. A moment later I felt a tug on my elbow and looked up to see my dad who'd come over to collect me, but I barely registered him. Suddenly it was all so clear to me.
I'd been fixated on Killbane, but we should have been looking for the father.
* * * * *
"I don't get it," Caleb said over the phone the next morning. "And I can barely hear you. Are you outside or something?"
"I'm headed to my 'part-time job,'" I said as I flew over the city. "And look, we have to find Harridan. But she could be anywhere, and we already know where Killbane is. But whatever they did to him I'm betting they're going to do to his father, Killdozer, if they haven't already. Or maybe it didn't take and they've got him tucked away somewhere. But he's the missing piece. If we find Killdozer, I bet we find Harridan. Then maybe we get some answers."
"So what do you want me to do?"
"Look, Killbane—or Blamestorm, or whatever—said his name was Derek, and he recognized me at the mall. So either my teenage transgender celebrity status has spread to the entire city, or—"
"—or he goes to our school," Caleb said. "Jeez, am I the only guy in that place who's not secretly a superhero?"
"Just get a look at his records or something. There's got to be something in his file about his father, maybe a home address."
"And how the heck am I supposed to get a look at his file? I'm not like the crazy computer nerd guy that hacks into databases for the superhero, you know."
"I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Great. Look, I gotta run, that's the bell. Enjoy your week off."
I hung up and took a pass over Prodigy's garage to make sure the coast was clear before I landed in the alleyway that had the secret entrance we used when taking the car out. Prodigy wasn't wild about me flying up to the front door, but as I pointed out to him, if the back entrance was good enough to sneak the car in, it was unobtrusive enough for me to sneak in as long as I promised to be careful.
As I entered the garage I was a little surprised to see Prodigy already there, sitting at the computer. I'd been hoping to get a little alone time with the computer to look up Killbane and Killdozer since their records on the data pad he'd given me seemed a little sketchy. And to my annoyance, there were absolutely no records for Demetria or Harridan, which were conspicuously absent.
Prodigy didn't even turn to look at me. "Aren't you supposed to be in school or something?"
I held my breath, not sure how much grief I was going to get over this, but I knew he'd probably figure it out if he hadn't already. "I got suspended for a week."
He cast an eye over at me, that same disapproving glance as always. "You get caught flashing your tits?"
I glared at him. "Yes. That is exactly what happened. I got suspended for a week for flashing my tits," I said sarcastically.
"They should have given you two weeks," he said before returning his attention to the computer. "Aren't your mommy and daddy going to miss you?"
I hesitated. "My dad's at work and my mom thinks I'm...babysitting." I winced slightly at admitting to such a girly cover story.
"You're an idiot," he sniped, his attention still on the computer. "That's a lousy alibi. The next time your mom talks to those parents she'll know you weren't there."
"They don't exist," I replied and he turned to look at me with a puzzled scowl. "We mocked up a web site for a fake babysitting service and all the clients are fictitious. Right now I'm babysitting a precocious four-year-old named Elena," I said proudly. "I even downloaded a picture onto my phone in case my mom wants to see a picture of her."
Prodigy stared at me for a moment. "Huh," he said finally, before returning to the computer.
I smiled. "I know a couple other teenage heroines who want in on the action. I'm thinking I could charge for the service."
"Yeah, don't break your arm patting yourself on the back. And stop grinning like that, you look like an idiot."
"Yes, sir," I beamed. I knew I was wearing him down.
"Well, as long as you're here you can help with something. That business with the Liberty Squadron spilled over into the city and there's some cleanup work to do."
He headed for the car and I hurried after him, still smiling. The Liberty Squadron was the superhero team, and the opportunity to rub elbows with them didn't happen every day! I imagined myself fighting alongside the likes of Promethean, Arcturus, or Tinsel and felt myself getting excited. Now that's what I had in mind when I became a hero!
* * * * *
Needless to say, things didn't exactly go the way I'd hoped. My mistake was in assuming that when the old man said "cleanup work" he meant some assignment that was minor by the Squadron's standards, which would still be a big step up compared to what I was used to. I didn't expect that I'd actually be cleaning.
Apparently whatever interdimensional fracas they'd prevented had breached into the city, which in addition to the usual significant property damage had also left a number of alien arms and artifacts among the wreckage. Such items often found their way into the cleanup crews' pockets and from there onto the black market where if we lucky they would end up in some rich guy's private collection. (If we were unlucky, they would end up in some rich guy's private collection where he would use them to try and take over the city.)
As a result, a couple other sidekicks and I found ourselves on grunt detail scouring through the wreckage and debris for any remaining alien technology. I didn't even get a chance to meet any of the Squadron, I was just assigned a huge pile of debris to sift through. Meanwhile, Prodigy and the more well-known heroes were off conferring with each other, ostensibly to coordinate our activities, but mostly I suspected to avoid the heavy lifting.
As I scrounged through the pile of debris I wiped the sweat off my brow and grumbled as I saw Prodigy and Tinsel talking to each other.
"So, you have any plans for this weekend?" I said to myself mockingly in a squeaky high-pitched voice. I actually hadn't met Tinsel—or any of the Liberty Squadron—but I'd decided that was exactly how she talked.
"I thought I'd fire up the old Victrola and take the zeppelin to visit my World War I buddies at the speakeasy," I replied in a mimicry of Prodigy's gruff voice.
I'd just tossed a girder to the side and bent over to grab another one when I heard a male voice behind me.
"You're new to the team, aren't you?"
"Sure," I replied. I didn't even bother to look, figuring it was just a policeman or emergency worker who wanted a better look at my butt, and I wasn't in the mood to turn around and give him the full show. I used to wonder how real girls put up with that crap, but the longer I spent as Prodigious Girl the more I started to realize that I was fast becoming an expert in that area, myself.
Still, there had been something strange about this guy. He hadn't sounded like one of the typical gawkers, and I was having trouble placing his accent. Plus, as I thought about it, based on where his voice had come from it sounded like he either had to be really really tall, or—
—or he was floating six feet above the ground.
I gasped and spun around.
Hovering right there before me resplendent in his white, red, and gold uniform was Promethean, looking like he had just stepped off the poster that adorned my wall at home. He was tall, handsome and incredibly muscular, with wavy golden blond hair and a disarmingly boyish smile. I knew that Trixie would freaking die to be in my shoes right now...most girls would, and more than a few guys. As Prodigious Girl I'd never felt any attraction for guys—despite lots of offers and opportunities—but an unexpected flutter raced through me and I felt myself swoon just slightly as he landed on the ground right in front of me.
I fought to stamp it down and pull myself together. You're a hero, start acting like it! I chided myself.
"Hi," I giggled.
"You're Prodigious Girl, aren't you?"
Oh, my God, he knew my name! It was all I could do not to squeal like a fangirl. Okay, play it cool, I thought. Confident and detached, a little aloof.
"Yeah," I giggled again.
Damn you, you stupid lizard brain!
"You're Prodigy's new partner, isn't that right?"
I couldn't believe I hadn't recognized his voice right away. He had a distinctive but indeterminate accent that sounded like an Americanized version of some language I wasn't familiar with. I remembered some girls in my school talking about how sexy he sounded and at the time I just scoffed, but suddenly I knew what they were talking about. Wow, had it gotten hotter? I felt flushed.
"'Partner,'" I sniffed. "That's a kind euphemism." Wow, a three-syllable word. Glad my brain finally decided to show up to the party.
Promethean smiled knowingly. "Yes, he can be a little bit gruff," he said, making me wonder if understatement was one of his super-powers. "But with most of his partners he's never even bothered to mention their names. He obviously holds you in high esteem."
I looked down and smiled.
"Have I said something funny?"
I blushed as he looked at me with those piercing blue eyes. "I really dig your accent, but I think you mispronounced that word," I told him. "You pronounced it 'esteem,' but it's actually pronounced 'contempt.'"
He laughed out loud. "That's very clever," he said as he placed a hand on my shoulder. I froze a smile on my face and tried to pay attention even as my lizard brain screamed, "He's touching me! Promethean is actually touching me! I'm never washing this shoulder again!"
I was vaguely aware of him saying something and then he smiled again and flew off into the blue. Then in a panic I realized that I hadn't been paying attention and in a mad scramble I tried to recall his words before they faded from my short-term memory. As I played it back in my head, I heard my idol say, "Well, if it doesn't work out with Prodigy, you're welcome to partner up with me any time."
* * * * *
"He said what?"
Caleb looked at me uncertainly as he closed the window that I'd used to enter his bedroom. Breaking protocol, I'd flown directly to his house and I hadn't even bothered to change, so I was sitting on his bed as Prodigious Girl and staring at him wide-eyed. (I'd heard him mutter something about superheroines in his bedroom and a waste of a good teenage fantasy, but my head was still swimming.)
"He said I could be his partner! Promethean! Can you believe it?"
"That would be pretty cool, I guess."
"You guess? Caleb, he's one of the greats!" I jumped up off the bed and started pacing around. "You remember when he fought those Blood Golems? Or how about that time when the Attraxi Genie swapped everyone's heads around and Promethean beat him using Ephemeral's body? That could be me!"
"Why would you want your head on Ephemeral's body?"
"No, I mean, I could be there! Fighting the important fights right alongside the big leaguers!"
"I thought you said all this wasn't about being a fanboy. That it was all about the people you're helping."
"Well, yeah," I said as I sat back down. "C'mon, I thought you'd be bouncing off the walls?"
"And I thought the plan was for you to sidekick to the old geezer long just long enough for him to retire or get knocked out of the picture and then you take over his name."
"Whenever that's gonna be," I grumbled. "Dude, I'm just sick of being Prodigy's gofer and human shield. Instead of being some loser's sidekick, I could be a real superhero's partner! Isn't that better?"
"But you'd be stuck as a girl."
I stopped as I realized he was right. The whole point of choosing Prodigy in the first place was that we figured he'd die or retire soon and I could take his name and rebrand myself then, gender and all. But Promethean wasn't likely to be going anywhere anytime soon, and he already had other partners in his "Promethean Family of Heroes" who would be vying for his legacy. So that meant that I'd get to be on the front lines with the big kids, but I'd have to do it as a girl. And I doubted someone as straight-laced as Promethean would react well if he learned a teenage guy had been running around as a superheroine. This offer was for Prodigious Girl.
Caleb peered at me. "Is that what you want?"
In truth, I wasn't sure. I always knew I'd have to make sacrifices as a hero, but when those stupid motivational posters tell you how you have to reach for your dreams they never seem to mention what you might find yourself wearing at the time. Or that you'd have boobs. Or how you'd have to put up with all of the sexist innuendos, cat-calls, and grab-assery.
I stood up and stretched. "I don't know, I need a soda or something," I said as I headed for the door to go downstairs to the kitchen.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
I studied his face in confusion before I realized I was still Prodigious Girl...I'd completely forgotten who I was and what I was wearing. And as I looked over at Caleb I could read the worry on his face, obviously concerned that maybe I was getting a bit too comfortable with my impersonation.
"Maybe I should change first," I said as I typed in the command on my I-Comm to open my warp closet. I retrieved my compact-sized CosFit device and activated it and soon felt the familiar sense of the nanobots crawling across my skin as they changed my costume into my civilian clothes, and as they did so I shapeshifted back into Chris.
"I gotta admit, that's pretty cool," Caleb said. "Though it would probably be cooler if you weren't changing from a girl hero into you in a dress."
"Thanks," I muttered as I tugged at an errant bra strap. The nanobots were supposed to put everything back exactly where they found them, but I swear they always had troubles with the bra. I always wanted to ask another heroine if they noticed the same problem, but it seemed like an awkward subject to bring up in conversation.
Caleb reached for a notebook on his desk and opened it up. "Oh, that reminds me, I got that information you wanted about Killbane or Blamestorm or whatever he's calling himself. His real name is Derek Morrow, and you were right about him going to our school. He transferred a couple months ago. His father's name is Dominic—I'm guessing that's Killdozer—and apparently he's been having some kind of health issue or panic attacks or something. They live on the east side, over by Industrial Avenue."
"Wow, great work," I said. "You got all that from his records at school?"
"Are you kidding me? Mrs. Campos wouldn't let me within thirty yards of those. I just asked him."
"What?!?"
"Yeah, I introduced myself at lunch. He was chatty."
"But—you can't—" I sputtered, horrified that he'd tipped our hand. But as I tried to articulate what exactly he'd done wrong, I came up empty. "And he just...volunteered all that?"
Caleb nodded. "Oh, sure. Although..."
"What'd you do?" I groaned.
"I kinda let it drop that you and I were friends and I promised to put in a good word with you. He thinks you're cute."
"Caleb!"
"What? He's new in school and you're both superheroes. I thought you might make a cute couple."
I fixed him with a look. "You're messing with me."
He smiled and snapped his fingers. "Darn it. I was hoping to at least get you guys set up on a blind date. That would have been hilarious."
"Well, you might get your wish. Right now he's our best lead at figuring out what's going on and so far my best plan is to walk up to his front door and knock. Did you get anything more on the father?"
"Maybe?" He said as he opened his laptop. "HeroSpotter has this cool feature where it doesn't just track where heroes were seen, but also who they were fighting and who they were seen with." He turned in his chair to look at me. "You never told me that you teamed up with Euphoria."
"It was just the one time," I said. And as far as I was concerned it was one time too many. Personality quirks come with the territory in the superhero business, but she was a total ditz. Cute as hell, but God, what a dingbat.
He sat back in his chair. "What a cutie. I'd really like to meet her somet—"
"Caleb?" I said, pointing to the laptop.
"Aaand another dream deferred," he sighed as he sat up straight and pulled up the site on his browser. "Okay, so Blamestorm either hasn't been out all that much or he's keeping a low profile, but not too long ago it looks like he started teaming up with this other guy. Now I'm not sure if that's his dad or—"
"That's him," I said as I looked at the image. It was a little blurry and you could only see him in profile, but he was big and heavily muscled and wore a form-fitting blue-green costume with a cowl. "That's definitely Killdozer."
"You sure you're sure?" Caleb asked. "'Cause there's a lot of heroes with muscles like that."
"Trust me, I got a really up-close look at him." I leaned closer and read the entry. "Viridian? That's what he's calling himself now?"
"Guess so," he shrugged. "Cool name, at least. Now that name would have been good for you. You—"
I closed my eyes. "Caleb, you seriously don't want to be pulling on that thread."
"Sorry," he said. "So, then, what's the plan?"
"I gotta talk to 'em, I guess."
Caleb looked at me dubiously. "These would be the same guys who nearly thrashed your entire team last time, right?"
I let out a long, slow breath. "Any suggestions?"
He turned to look at the laptop to review their entries and then turned back to me. "Be very polite," he decided. "Maybe flirt a little? Flash some leg."
* * * * *
That evening I flew over to Derek's house. I still had no earthly idea how to approach him about all of this but I was confident that something would occur to me on the flight over. But after thirty minutes of hovering several hundred feet above the small run-down houses in his neighborhood like a listless brunette weather balloon, I was starting to suspect that my brilliant plan might not be forthcoming.
I ran through the options again in my mind. Showing up unannounced on Derek's doorstep as Chris would cause the fewest waves, but I'd have to swing the conversation around to talking about his heroic identity, which I didn't think I could do without exposing my own secret identity. However, showing up on his doorstep as Prodigious Girl seemed like a great way to start a fight (in the finest tradition of needless superhero fights from the comics), or—best case—if he'd genuinely reformed I'd be outing him as a super to his family and neighbors. Ideally, I'd want to meet him while both of us were in our heroic identities, but I had no idea how to arrange that. So I just floated there apparently hoping he was going to be stupid enough to just walk up to his front door in full costume like—
*BOOM*
I saw the flash a split second before I heard the explosion that destroyed the front half of Derek's house, and streaking out of the blast like a blue-green meteor was what looked to be a man in a superhero costume. For a moment I thought he was flying away until I recognized the graceful parabolic arc that signaled that he had just been knocked back several hundred feet from an attack that originated in the house.
Not sure what was going on, I fell back on my training and headed towards the site of the greatest damage—the house—figuring that there might be people in there in need of assistance. But as I landed in the wreckage it looked like the damage to the building was catastrophic and I feared the worst for anyone who might have been inside. Then, from off to one side in what apparently used to be the now-demolished living room, I could hear soul-wracking sobs that told me I was too late.
"He killed her!" Derek sobbed. His clothes were in tatters and underneath I could see he was wearing his superhero costume. "Why would he kill her? All we had was each other!" He gently cradled the body of a middle-aged woman who stared upwards with lifeless eyes. Her neck seemed to have been broken.
"Blamestorm—Derek—I'm so sorry," I said carefully. "Who did this? I saw—"
"It was my dad, but he was out of his mind. I-I thought he was getting better—"
"Your dad. You mean Killdozer?"
"Who?"
"Dominic?" I tried. "Viridian?"
"How do you know about all that?" he said, wiping his tears.
"It's not important. You said he was getting better. What was wrong with him?"
Derek shook his head. "Dad's been...unstable. Moody. Angry. But tonight he just snapped. He was crazy, like—"
"RAAAAAGGHHH!"
I turned barely in time to see a heavily-muscled super in a blue-green costume—obviously Viridian—bound into the wreckage of the building and land right next to Derek. Before either of us could react, the enraged strongman backhanded his son, sending him flying through the remains of the front wall and out into the street.
Figuring Viridian was the clear and present danger, I pounced on him and grabbed him from behind, trying to restrain him. From our earlier fight I knew he was a lot stronger than me but I hoped to get some leverage on him and maybe talk him down. As I grappled with him from behind I lifted us a few feet off the ground to make sure he couldn't use my own plan against me, and the maneuver left him facing the lifeless body of his wife lying there amid the rubble. I thought maybe the sight might help shock him back to his senses.
"Viridian! Dominic!" I cried as I struggled to hold him. "Calm down! I'm not here to hurt you! I only want—"
My pleas were cut short when he got an arm loose and slammed his elbow into my gut hard enough that I thought I felt a rib give way. As I reeled from the blow he grabbed me by the hair—again with the hair, this guy!—and forcefully threw me through the wall. It felt like every part of my body hurt as I realized I was sitting in a plush leather seat. For a moment I thought I was hallucinating before I realized I'd smashed through the roof of a car parked on the street.
"Are you okay?" a voice came. Bleary-eyed I looked up to see Blamestorm, now fully in his costume with his mask in place as he tore the remains of the car door away. He offered a hand to help me out.
"Ow," I said, gently cradling my ribs.
"I don't want to hurt him. I don't know why he's like this, but he's still my father."
"I don't think there's a lot of risk of hurting him," I said as I looked up and down the street. House lights were turning on and people were stepping outside or looking out their windows to see what all the noise was about. "We have to move him away from here."
He thought for a moment. "There's a construction site less than a mile away."
"Yeah, I saw it."
"How do we get him to follow us?" he asked.
"Oh, don't worry," I said with a wince as a lance of pain ran up my side. "I'm kind of an expert at that." Focusing through the pain I picked up the remains of the car that I'd landed on and hurled it at the remains of the house, right where Viridian had emerged. The car slammed into him with a very satisfying crash, but the howl that emerged was more from rage than injury.
"Time to go," I said.
I grabbed Blamestorm and took off, making sure that Viridian had a good view of us as he threw the debris to the side. I sped for the construction site as Viridian bounded after us in hot pursuit. I'd love to say that I was going deliberately slowly to avoid losing him, but he seemed to be doing a pretty good job of keeping up on his own.
We landed at the site and I looked at Blamestorm. I had about a million questions for him but with his father only seconds away I knew I had to stay focused. "Hey," I said. "Hey, look at me. He's too strong for me. I can't beat him by myself. Are you up for this?"
He nodded, although with less certainty than I'd hoped.
"Good. Get out of sight and I'll get his attention. When he lands, hit him, and hit him hard!"
"But—!"
"He can take it!" I assured him, and a lot better than I can, I thought to myself. "We have to finish this fast or more people are going to die!" I felt lousy reminding him of his mother's death like that and using it to motivate him, but we were out of time. For a fleeting moment I wondered if that's how Prodigy developed his sunny disposition, always putting the mission first.
I didn't have time to think about it. Only a moment after Blamestorm ducked out of sight, Viridian landed twenty feet in front of me and the ground shook from the impact.
"Oh, good. No trouble finding the place, I hope? For a minute there I thought we'd lost you," I said.
Viridian's mask covered the top half of his face but I could still see his eyes and it looked like he'd gone feral or something.
"GRRAAAAAH!" he roared as he launched himself at me with reckless abandon. I dove out of the way and barely eluded his savage grasp...at least I thought I had. It turned out that he'd managed to get a grip on my cape, and he yanked on it hard to pull me closer. Or he would have if the cape hadn't pulled loose.
"It's a breakaway clasp," I explained. "People try that move a lot. Though that was a jerk move pulling on my hair."
He roared again and grabbed a nearby bag of concrete and hurled it at me like he was throwing a softball. I gave a startled yelp and jumped skyward as the projectile missed me by a whisker and demolished a storage shed.
"Okay," I said as I hovered overhead, "I feel like I'm doing all the work here to keep the conversation going? But if you want to talk about sports or something, I'd be more than happy to—cheese and crackers!" I exclaimed as a piece of rebar sailed by my head with lethal velocity.
Viridian growled and bared his teeth as he armed himself with another piece of rebar. He was just about to hurl it at me when Blamestorm came up from the side. But instead of coming out shooting, he'd pulled his mask back off his face.
"Dad, it's me. It's Derek," he said as he edged slowly closer, and Viridian, wild-eyed, turned and stood unmoving as he watched his son's cautious approach.
"This isn't the plaaaan..." I said in a sing-song voice as I slowly lowered myself to the ground in case I needed to make a quick move.
"Dad, this isn't you. You gotta listen to me. You gotta—"
Viridian roared again and launched the piece of rebar at his son. It happened so fast I barely had time to process it before I saw it sticking out of Blamestorm's chest and he slumped to the ground, dead.
I froze in shock, certain that my eyes had somehow deceived me as things seemed to slip into slow motion. I hardly knew him but seeing his life snuffed out so suddenly and capriciously left me disoriented. I took a tentative step towards his body, perhaps in the vain hope that CPR might revive him even though I knew in my heart he was gone.
"Blamest—!" I started before Viridian was on me like a wild animal. He viciously backhanded me and I sailed into the superstructure of the building and slammed against an iron girder so hard that I saw stars as I slumped to the ground. I blinked away the pain as a blue-green blur was on top of me and I felt huge powerful hands wrap around my throat and start to squeeze.
I struggled madly in his grasp and tried not to panic and to remember my training but all I could think about was how I wasn't getting any air and that I was going to die here, killed by this maniac.
Suddenly, two things happened, neither one of which I could readily explain. First, I felt his grip on me weaken as I pried desperately at his fingers. I pulled at them and managed to pry his hands loose as I greedily sucked air into my burning lungs. I was a long way from having this under control, but for a moment I thought I might have a fair fight on my hands.
Then, a few seconds later, I noticed a bright red glow emerge right between us. Viridian seemed just as startled by this as I was, perhaps even more so. So neither one of us were prepared when we looked down and saw the bright red point of a glowing sword sticking out of his chest.
His grip went slack and I released him in confusion as he fell to the ground, quiet and unmoving. I looked up to see Harridan standing there, holding her quantum blade that she'd just pulled out of Viridian's back.
"You're welcome," she said.
"You killed him!"
"And just in the nick of time, it seems."
"You didn't have to kill him, we could have taken him together!"
"Was that your plan with this one?" she asked as she bent over to check Blamestorm's vitals. She nodded and stood up. "Shame I wasn't here sooner or maybe I could have saved him, too." She calmly tapped a control on her wrist and a mini surveillance drone flew down and attached itself to her belt. "Still, I think the footage will justify my use of lethal force, especially to rescue a Sidekick who was knowingly fighting above her weight class," she said. "Next time? Call in the adults."
"You don't fool me," I told her. "You expect me to believe you just happened to be here? You wanted them both dead. You did something to them. To both of them. Villains turned heroes going on crazed rampages? Demetria's in on it, too, isn't she?"
"You read too many comic books, sweetie," she replied as she turned to leave.
"I'm not just letting you walk away from this," I said, interposing myself. "Three people are dead."
She looked me over and flashed a cocky smile. "Oh, darling, that is precious," she taunted. "You're feisty, I'll give you that. But in three days, it won't make a damn bit of difference how feisty you are." She took a step closer. "Make no mistake, little girl, this is a game for grown-ups. And if you ever get in my way again, you won't know what hit you."
Before I could say anything, she touched a control on her belt and a teleport gate flashed into existence and swept her away in the blink of an eye.
I looked over the wreckage and the bodies of the two dead supers as I heard the sound of sirens in the distance getting closer. "This isn't over," I said to myself. "I'm not letting this one go."
"You want me to what?" I said incredulously, certain that I'd misheard him.
Prodigy looked up from the device he was working on. "I told you to drop it. Let it go."
I stared at him, dumbfounded. I'd stayed up half the night working out about how best to approach him with everything I'd learned about Killdozer and Killbane, Harridan's involvement, everything. I was brief, to the point, and methodical, just like he'd taught me. He listened to almost half of my speech before he shot me down.
"I-I can't," I told him. "I won't."
He pointed a finger at me. "Can. Will. If not, door's right over there, girl. Try not to let it hit you on the ass."
"Three people are dead, doesn't that bother you?"
"Three criminals. So...no." Then he regarded me carefully. "Two of whom tried to kill you, as I recall."
"That's not the point."
He scoffed as he returned to his work. "How terribly big-hearted of you."
I dropped a small picture frame on the table in front of him, smack on top of his instruments. The frame was damaged and the picture singed around the edges, but the picture was still clear and showed Dominic and his wife along with Derek as they smiled for the camera. The Morrow family in happier times.
Prodigy tossed his tools on the table. "What the hell is that?"
"I thought you'd want to see the people who are dead because of whatever Harridan is up to."
"Where did you get this?"
I hesitated but did my best to stay firm. "From their house."
"From the crime scene, you mean."
"And the mother wasn't a criminal," I insisted.
"In point of fact, she was, precious," Prodigy said. "I looked her up. Here's her rap sheet. Harboring criminals—"
"Her husband and son!"
"—receiving stolen merchandise, drug possession—"
"Fine! She's a criminal. But nothing in there is a capital offense. She didn't deserve to die."
"Kid, she had two metahuman lunatics living under her roof. One was bound to blow his top eventually."
"But then why were they going straight? Or trying to. It doesn't make any sense," I said. "And if Harridan is involved, I bet Demetria is, too."
"She's not."
"Why not? It all fits! Maybe she put some kind of mind whammy on them—"
"A 'mind whammy?' I see you've decided to base your hypothesis on Saturday morning cartoon logic. Besides, it's not in her nature. Those two reprobates probably found religion or were working a con or something. They—"
I wasn't going to let him blow past me like that. "Wait. Demetria. You know her?"
"Knew," he said. "I met her a long time ago. But enough to know she'd never condone what you're talking about. She abhors violence, a real big-hearted type. I'm sure you'd like her."
"Yeah, well, she may not like violence but Harridan seems to be a big fan. Maybe Harridan is doing this on her own, or maybe she's forcing Demetria somehow. We just have to contact Demetria and—"
"The hell we will. I told you to drop it."
"Fine, then I'll get on the computer and find out who—"
"I said, drop it!" he yelled as he slammed his fist on the desk. He stood up and stalked towards the exit. "Get out of here. No training today. You're probably late for cheerleading practice or some shit, anyway."
* * * * *
That evening I sat in my bedroom stewing as I plucked disconsolately at the hem of the pastel blue skirt that I was wearing. It was bad enough getting unceremoniously sidelined like that by Prodigy, but I was finding it difficult to work up a really good sense of righteous umbrage when I had to constantly fuss with my barrette to keep the blonde hairs of my wig out of my face. But with three people dead there was no way that I was letting it go just because Prodigy had a bug up his butt.
"Well, that sucks," Caleb said sympathetically from the video chat window on my laptop. "So I guess you're not dropping it?"
"You guess correctly."
"That's weird he waved you off like that. You think he's in on it?"
That caught me by surprise. "Why would you say that?"
"Chris, those two villains didn't just toss on new costumes, they managed to register as heroes somehow. Which means somebody did it who hacked the registration system. Which you said he'd done, right?"
"Yeah."
"And then he freaked out when you told him you wanted to use his computer. Maybe he's afraid of you finding something?"
I absently ran my fingers along the thumb drive that Demetria had given me, the one that she claimed would give me full access to Prodigy's computer. "I don't get it. If they're in on it together, why would she give me this?"
Caleb shook his head. "He tells you to trust her, and she tells you not to trust him. My head's ready to explode."
"Neither one of them wants me involved. But as far as I'm concerned, that's reason enough for me to get involved," I said resolutely. I turned to look out the window, wondering what I was getting myself into. Messing around with these old-school heroes was dangerous, especially for a lone sidekick like me.
When I turned back, Caleb had a stupid grin on his face.
"What?" I sighed.
He shook his head. "It's nothing," he said, still grinning.
"Caleb..."
"It's just...it's really funny when you talk all serious and heroic and your earrings are swinging back and forth like that."
"Oh, my God," I groaned.
"Hey, don't blame me! Maybe next time don't wear your dangly teddy bear earrings to the grim 'lives are on the line' meeting."
"They're not teddy bears!"
"They look like teddy bears."
"No, they're little flowers, see?" I said as I leaned closer to the camera.
"If you say so," he said skeptically.
We both froze as we suddenly became aware how profoundly stupid this conversation had become. Then a look of concern crossed Caleb's face.
"Oh, man, I just had a thought," he said. "What if you're right, and there's something really dangerous going on, and we—as in you and me—really are the last line of defense?"
"Caleb—"
"Think about it. I mean, I always knew there were the big alien threats to the city and stuff, but I figured the big guys like Arcturus or Promethean had that covered. But what if like all the time there are these other threats to the city and without anybody knowing it, it falls to guys just like us to save everyone from disaster?"
That stopped me in my tracks. That was absolutely horrifying. Seriously, I didn't think I was going to get any sleep that night with that idea running over and over in my brain.
"Man, that'd be awesome!" Caleb enthused.
I closed my eyes and shook my head in disbelief as I felt my dangly flowered earrings tug playfully on my ears. I then sighed and looked up at the poster of Promethean that graced my wall and shifted uncomfortably in my dress as my hero seemed to look down at me with a knowing smirk.
"I bet you never have days like this," I muttered.
* * * * *
Prodigy was a night owl but I figured that he had to sleep sometime, so I waited until just before dawn the next morning to enter the garage so that I could sneak a peek at his computer. I edged quietly inside and nervously darted my eyes around as I strained to hear for any sign he might still be there, but the only sound was the regular ambient noise of the generators. The lights were still on, but that was his custom. One time as we'd climbed into the car I'd suggested turning them off if we weren't going to be there anyway, and he gave me an angry glare and muttered something under his breath about having a tree-hugging hippie for a sidekick.
I paused for a moment to make sure I hadn't tripped any alarms...or at least none of the ones that he'd informed me about. My pulse raced and my palms began to sweat as I wondered if this was a good idea. Not only was I a bit afraid of what I might discover, but if he caught me like this, things could go south in a big hurry.
I took a slow, quiet breath. Just stay stealthy, I thought.
"Hey, Chris, how's it going?" Caleb shouted in my ear.
I jumped about a foot and frantically dialed down the volume on the earpiece. "Jeez, don't do that!" I hissed.
"Hey, do me a favor and take some pictures, willya? It's my first superhero lair. I'm curious." It sounded like he had something in his mouth and I could hear crunching sounds.
"Caleb, I'm a little on edge here, okay? So do me a favor and be quiet and put down the Funyuns."
There was a long pause followed the crinkling sounds of the bag being rolled up. "Fine," he grumbled.
I made my way over to the computer and punched in my access code. Prodigy had given it to me with the understanding that it was only to educate myself on his operations or to assist in our cases at his direction. I only had limited access but he'd guarded it jealously and only relented after I'd pointed out that I could get more information online through my cell phone than he'd been giving me. And even then it had been accompanied with a warning of dire consequences if he caught me surfing YouTube for instructional makeup videos or dance tutorials.
I took one last look over my shoulder and pulled out the thumb drive that Demetria had given me and regarded it apprehensively. "Okay, here goes," I said as I gently slid it into the port.
For a minute it didn't look like anything was happening and I worried that I'd just been party to installing some Trojan Horse malware on his machine...or worse, that Prodigy's computer detected and prevented the intrusion and was even now alerting him to the failed attempt.
"Anything?" Caleb asked.
"Not yet," I said nervously as the seconds ticked past. "Okay, forget it. I'm pulling it—whoa."
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I—I'm in," I said as I examined the complicated menus. Like most things Prodigy had built, the interface was uniquely designed to his specific needs and work processes, so they were tricky to navigate. But I was in.
"What kinds of games does he have?" Caleb asked.
"Caleb..."
"Dude, I'm just messing with you," he said as I heard the smile in his voice. Then, "Hey, it's not weird when I call you 'dude' when you're a girl, is it?"
"Kinda trying to concentrate, here."
"Sorry. Do you see the link to the Hero Registration database?"
"Just a minute. I want to check something else first."
"What?"
I tapped at my I-Comm and skimmed through the list of photos that I'd taken. "This whole mess started the night that we fought Killbane and his father, when Harridan just happened to be in the neighborhood that first time. I want to know more about what they were after." I found the picture I took of the crate the two villains were trying to steal and punched in the long alphanumeric identifier.
The search engine beeped in response and it practically echoed in the quiet garage.
"Ugh," I said as I perused the complicated technical readouts. "I understand maybe ten percent of this. I think it's some kind of broadcast device. Something to do with warp space."
"You mean like that comm device you use to open up your warp locker?" Caleb asked. "Maybe they're hacking into other people's warp storage?"
"I dunno. It might explain why the Sanctuary is so big if they're tapping into other adjacent spaces, I guess."
"Dude, you're wasting time. You need to find the link to the registration database."
"Yeah, okay." Tense minutes passed as I navigated through the labyrinth of menus and tried to remember how Prodigy had done it. Suddenly there was a noise behind me and I almost yelped until I realized it was the air conditioner recycling.
"This isn't working," I said.
"Chris, this is taking too long. You need to get out of there."
"One more minute."
My eyes rested on the tangle of wires visible behind the computers and cut over to Prodigy's messy workbench. "Security through obscurity," I whispered as I remembered how my mom had overlooked my I-Comm sitting out in the open in my cluttered bedroom.
I realized that I had been making things too complicated. I went back to the main menu and toggled the user profile so I was viewing the limited menu of options he'd given me. When he'd given me that data pad of known metahumans to study he'd also given me access to the same data on the computer, so I tried pulling up the metahuman dossiers.
"Caleb. That data pad that Prodigy gave me. Do you have it handy?" I'd loaned it to him after he whined for an hour about seeing it. He was even more of a superhero groupie than I was, and all the little-known trivia in there was like gold to him.
"Yeah, but that's no good. I already checked, the records we want aren't there."
I nodded to myself. I figured that Prodigy wasn't going to be that trusting. "See if there's a record in there on Blamestorm."
"Nope. Nothing."
"That's funny, 'cause I've got one here," I said as I skimmed over the entry. Now that I was in the list of dossiers, Demetria's little toy had unlocked access to the complete list. Blamestorm's entry was sketchy and didn't have any of Prodigy's personal notes, but had a link back to the Hero Registration system. I clicked on it.
"Here we go," I said. "He registered as a Sidekick less than two weeks after I fought him as Killbane."
"Does it say who sponsored him?"
"Crud. Yeah, it says it was Viridian."
Caleb made a little grumble. "So that's a dead end, right? If Derek's dad registered as Viridian, he wouldn't need a sponsor since he's an adult."
I clicked back and searched for Viridian. Sure enough, it was a standalone registration as a Hero. "Well, the two of them registered within minutes of each other, I guess that counts for something."
"Not much."
I pounded the desk in frustration since I knew Caleb was right. This was hardly the smoking gun I'd been looking for. But then I thought back to how Double-Decoy had renamed herself Beguiler and had an idea.
I ran another search.
"Gotcha!" I said. "Check this out. There's no link between these new registrations and Demetria, but two unascended metas had been camping on the names 'Blamestorm' and 'Viridian' before those two snatched them up. Just minutes before Derek and his father registered as heroes, both of these mysterious benefactors dropped their claims to the names. Wanna guess which organization those unascended metas were affiliated with?"
"The Sanctuary."
"Yep, it's Demetria, all right."
"Wow, nice sleuthing, Sherlock," Caleb said. "You know, I think you might actually be smarter as a girl."
"Nice." Then I noticed something. The link to cross-link to Demetria's record was grayed out. I looked down at Demetria's thumb drive. Was it blocking access to her own data, or was there something in Prodigy's computer preventing it?
"Caleb, check the data pad. Is there an entry for Demetria?"
A pause. "Nada."
All of Prodigy's secrets were starting to seriously piss me off. "Fine. I'll do it the other way," I said as I pulled up Prodigy's file on himself. It was a mishmash of data as it included information on previous cases, gadgets and technology, and a dozen other topics, but I didn't see anything on Demetria. But something else grabbed my attention.
"God," I whispered.
"What is it?"
"It's the list of Prodigy's former sidekicks. There are so many," I whispered as I scanned over the list and read the entries. "He just grinds them up and spits them out! He—yikes."
"What?"
"I'm looking at the injuries they suffered. This is like a revolving door into the emergency room."
"Well, it's a dangerous business, right?"
"Sure, but not like—" Then something caught my eye. "Just a minute. I want to check one thing."
Caleb already knew what I was thinking. "Don't do it, Chris."
It was too late. I'd already opened up my own entry.
Caleb was silent for several seconds. "What's it say?"
"It says I lack initiative."
"Huh. I guess it could be worse. What else?"
"Nothing else. That's the entire entry. 'Prodigious Girl: Lacks initiative.'"
"Well, that isn't—"
"Where the hell does he get off? 'Lacks initiative?' My prodigious butt, I lack initiative! Not only do I do all the heavy lifting and act as his personal human shield, but most of the time he chews me out for diving in! Does that sound like someone who lacks initiative to you?"
"I guess not, but—"
"Ooh!" I steamed. "For months this jackhole rides me, and when it comes time to do my assessment he writes two lousy words? Oh, this is rich. Why, if he was here, I'd—"
"Who are you taking to?" Prodigy demanded as he entered the garage.
I looked up in alarm and shut off my I-Comm unit as I yanked the thumb drive from the slot. "Who, me? Nothing. Nobody. I was just talking to myself," I stammered as I frantically tapped at the keyboard.
"Well, you're just a bottomless pit of neuroses, aren't you? But you'd better not be fucking around with the computer!" he warned as he saw me sitting there.
"I—"
"I swear to God, if you've been using my machine to send your boyfriend naked pictures of yourself—!"
"What? No!" I cried as he looked at the screen, which now displayed the dossier for Nymphobrainiac. "I just figured after our fight I'd look her up and see what I could have done differently." I gritted my teeth as I forced a smile. I was still of a mind to vent my ire at him, but it was a little hard to grab the moral high ground while I still had my hand in the cookie jar.
He looked at me suspiciously. "Good idea," he said finally. For a glimmer of an instant I thought it might be genuine praise, but naturally it was just setup for another bitingly sarcastic remark. "Yep, hundreds of potential perps out there, and you're studying the only one you know for a fact is behind bars. That's brilliant."
"Just trying to show a little initiative," I growled.
"Yeah, well, as long as you're here, try showing me a little more of your ass getting into the car. The Malefissions are pulling a heist downtown."
"Who?"
"I see you're making good progress reviewing those metahuman dossiers. I guess they're not as captivating as watching the Real Housewives of Batshit Arkansas."
"There's a lot of material to read!" I complained as I slammed the car door shut. (After hearing me tell this story, my publisher informed me that the proper word to use here would be "whined." We've agreed to disagree, though I feel that the audio book version will vindicate me.)
* * * * *
On the way to the fight I sat quietly seething the entire ride as I brooded over his dismissive appraisal of my efforts, to say nothing of the fact that I now seemed to have incontrovertible proof of Demetria's involvement in whatever was going on with Blamestorm and Viridian's deaths. But of course the only way I could say how I got it was by admitting that I hacked into Prodigy's own computers, so I wasn't inclined to share that with my mentor, especially since I still had a suspicion that he might be involved in some way.
So with all that on my mind I might perhaps be forgiven for operating at something less than peak performance.
Forgiven by anybody else, that is.
After we (and by "we" I mean "I") endured a particularly heinous thrashing at the hands of the Malefission triplets, Prodigy squealed into the garage and immediately jumped out to download the video of our fight to critique my performance and add insult to the injury I had endured. He, of course, had managed to emerge without a scratch thanks in no small part to hiding behind my invulnerable ass.
Very delicately I lifted myself out of the car as I grimaced at the deep tissue aches and pains that I knew I'd be feeling for a few days.
"You're getting sloppy," he chided me. "One of those stray energy blasts might have hit a bystander."
Might have hit him, he meant. "There were three of them! What was I supposed to do, wear a 'free hugs' sign? I'm getting pummeled out there!"
"Quit your bellyaching. Nobody said this was easy. Besides, you're getting all that publicity you wanted, aren't you?"
"Somebody has to talk to the press," I shot back, annoyed by his favorite taunt. Yes, I liked the spotlight, but that was hardly the only reason I was out there. A convenient side effect of my shapeshifting power was that I could mask the cuts and bruises I received from my frequent beatings, at least cosmetically. So whenever I was interviewed after a fight I always looked fresh as a daisy even though I was quite literally dying a little on the inside. It was like a metaphor for my life.
"So, any chance I'll get to be something more than the target dummy?" I sniped as he typed away at the computer.
"You ever read Batman comics? Girls these days do that kind of shit, right?"
"Sure."
"You ever wonder why Batman is always dressed in dark shadowy colors but his teenage sidekick wears a bright yellow cape?" he said acerbically. "Well, wonder no more." I was about to say something snarky, but he cut me off and growled, "As far as I'm concerned, you're nothing more than a tool to be used. Like the devices on my utility belt, just not as reliable."
"Oh, come on!" I exploded. "I've done everything you've ever asked of me! I've taken plenty of hits for the team, I've put up with your snide remarks. When does it end?"
"If you can't put up with a few cuts and bruises, maybe you're not cut out for being a hero. Maybe you should just scamper back to the mall to get a manicure and flirt with the boys."
"You know what? A line like that might have worked on me once upon a time, but I deserve this. And—and—screw you for going there, anyway! I am a hero. And no crotchety old geezer with his sad worn out costume and beat-up gadgets is going to tell me otherwise."
"So, you've got some fire in your belly after all."
"Oh, so this is supposed to be another test? Trying to see if I'm committed enough to be your student?"
"No, this is me telling you to get lost. You're no good to me."
"What?"
"You heard me, princess. Get out."
For a second I thought he might be joking until I realized he was serious. I couldn't believe my ears, but since this looked like the end there was no way I was going to miss the opportunity to tell him off.
"You know, at first I thought you were like a drill sergeant who just wanted to toughen me up. And then later, I thought it might be some 'wax on, wax off' bullgunk that was somehow teaching me lessons even while you humiliated and belittled me. But that's not it at all, is it? This is just a freaking meat grinder where you chew up and spit out hopeful young heroes and demolish their dreams!"
"Yeah, well, the door is right over there, sugar. Now you'll have plenty of time to grind the meat with your hunky football-playing boyfriends."
"Ooh!" I yelled inarticulately, still reeling from the betrayal.
"Oh, don't act so shocked. I know what you've been up to."
"Y-you do?" I stammered, worried that he knew about my hacking into his computer.
"I've been on to you since the first night we met. Hell, I told you as much. You're just hanging in and batting your eyelashes at me until I kick the bucket or retire so that you can get my name. Well, allow me to spare you the suspense—it ain't gonna happen, girl. Ever. So why don't you run along and sell your swill to some other schmuck, or better yet just hang it all up and go date some half-brained teenage jock, get married, and be a mommy. I guarantee you'll do more good for the city that way."
I stood there trembling as my entire body tensed up and I gripped my fists so tightly I thought I was going to draw blood. I wanted an insult to hurl back at him, something to hurt him the way he'd hurt me. But when he just sniffed at me derisively and turned his back to work on the computer, I just gaped at him in disbelief and stood there mutely, angry at both him and my own passivity. I spun around and didn't even bother going out the secret entrance and instead just flew straight up and smashed through the roof with a resounding crash without looking back.
* * * * *
"Jesus," Caleb whispered. He sat staring at me as I paced back and forth in his bedroom as Chris. Just Chris—not the female-dressed Chris, not Carly, not Prodigious Girl—I'd had about enough of that girly stuff.
"Miserable old fossil," I muttered. "Saying he doesn't need me? Well, I don't need him. I never needed him."
Caleb nodded in agreement. "That was a dumb idea anyway, trying to cozy up to him so he'd give you his name."
"That was your idea!"
"No, I'm pretty sure that was you."
I shot him an angry glare.
"I might be misremembering," he admitted quietly. Then after a moment he said, "So...what now?"
I sighed and ran my hand through my hair and was momentarily startled by how short it was. Usually when I had crises of this magnitude it was a lot longer.
"I don't know," I said. "I don't know who else to turn to. Demetria and Harridan are up to something, and if Harridan's taunt about 'three days' was real then if I'm lucky I've only got until tomorrow night to get to the bottom of it. I just wish I had somebody I could count on."
Caleb scoffed but I let it pass.
"Maybe I can talk to Trixie," I said.
Caleb looked at me like I was crazy. "You're kidding, right? For all you know, she's in on it!"
"I trust her! She—she understands."
His eyes narrowed as he looked at me like he was noticing something for the first time. "This is a girl thing, isn't it?"
"What? No!"
He jumped up out of his chair. "It is, isn't it?" He took a step closer and sniffed the air. "What is that?" he asked suspiciously.
"What's what?"
He leaned closer and sniffed again. "It smells like fruit." He drew back in alarm. "Oh, my God, are you wearing perfume?"
"No!"
"You are."
"I'm not!" I insisted. He continued to glare at me accusingly and I gave a timid little shrug. "It's watermelon and mint juice," I told him. "I have problem pores."
"No, you don't. You're a guy, remember? The girl whose skin you copied to make PG's body has 'problem pores,'" he said, waggling his fingers to make air quotes. "Or have you forgotten?"
"And just what is that supposed to mean, hmm?" I put my hands on my hips and raised my chin just slightly in a challenging pout. Based on Caleb's reaction I could tell that my prim reaction wasn't scoring me any points.
"You can't even see it, can you?" he said, incredulous. "You've gone native."
"I have not!"
"You have!" He looked at me in disgust and edged back away from me like I was contagious. "You and your girl friends are probably out there swapping makeup tips and giggling about boys."
"It's not like that!" I insisted. "I'm just trying to blend in." Then I decided to take the offensive. "Besides, all this girl hero stuff was your idea, remember?"
"Oh, so now it's my fault?"
"Well, it's not my fault!" I cried. If I'd stopped to think about it, I would have recognized this pithy banter as the work of two angry and defensive lizard brains arguing with each other. And this wasn't exactly Godzilla vs. Ghidorah, it was more like two petulant geckos tussling. I point this out because had I been thinking more clearly, I never would have said what I said next.
"Besides, is it so wrong for me to have one lousy friend who understands me?"
As I look back on my career as a hero, I can think of several times when I threw a punch in the heat of the moment and felt instant regret. And there have been plenty of smartass remarks I wish I could take back. But to this day that look of stunned disbelief and betrayal on my best friend's face still haunts me.
"I—I didn't mean it like that—" I stammered.
"Yes, you did."
"Caleb—"
"No. You did." He didn't sound angry. I think angry would have been better. "I don't get it, all this superhero junk. And they do. Your little club doesn't have a place for me, anyway."
"C'mon, I need you!"
"No, you don't. Chris, we both knew this was coming. You'll be hitting the big time soon. You don't need me anymore."
"Dude, don't do this. This has been our dream!"
He shook his head ruefully. "No, it's been your dream. And I don't want to be part of it anymore."
I felt like I was falling and my throat grew tight with emotion. "Caleb, please—"
"I think you should leave now."
There was a grim finality to his tone that I'd never heard from him before. With all my might I wanted to think of the words to say to make everything better, to put it back like it was. But as I felt the swell of emotion rise up in my chest, all I could think was that I didn't want him to see me cry. And knowing I was seconds from doing so I summoned my last remaining reserves to keep it together and gave him a simple nod before I rushed down the stairs and out the door.
I was barely a block away when I stopped against a shady tree and broke down into tears.
I don't remember the last time I cried like that. I just felt so helpless and alone. I tried to bottle it up again but eventually I just caved in and let all it overtake me as all my pent-up frustration came roiling out all at once. As I wept it made me wonder if Caleb was right and I was just being a girl about the whole thing and this crying fit was just the latest example, and it made me cry even harder.
But eventually even superheroes tire themselves out, and I found myself physically and emotionally spent as I finally pulled myself together and wiped my face. Because I knew that despite everything I still had a job to do. And although I hated to admit it, Caleb was right—as much as I trusted Trixie, she was too close to the problem.
But that didn't mean that I was out of allies.
I changed into Prodigious Girl and ten minutes later I landed in a marble courtyard surrounded by towering columns near the heart of the city. I strode confidently towards the gleaming silver-white building and before I came within a hundred feet of it my approach was blocked by two hulking automated defense bots that bristled with weapons and towered over me menacingly. Between them, a holographic projection appeared of a smartly-dressed businesswoman.
"Please state your name and purpose," she said in a synthetic contralto.
"Tell Promethean that Prodigious Girl is here. I want to take him up on his offer to be his partner."
* * * * *
I'd dreamed countless times about seeing the inside of the Liberty Squadron's base. I had the model at home and I'd watched the "authorized behind the scenes tour" video so many times I practically wore out my keyboard poring over every tiny little detail you could see in the background. The Squadron was the premier superteam of Faraday City—heck, of the entire world—and now that I was actually inside I could hardly contain my excitement.
At least I couldn't contain it for the first twenty minutes.
But after an hour and a half sitting in the waiting room, even I had to admit my patience was wearing thin. There were about a dozen other people sitting around who came and went while I sat there waiting. A couple guys tried to strike up a conversation with me, but given how fascinated they seemed to be with my breasts I just used the opportunity to work on my "Leave me the hell alone" glare. I was getting pretty good.
When the muzak version of Katy Perry's "Firework" played for the third time I figured I was pretty close to getting blown off entirely and I was just about ready to pack it up and leave when the inner door opened again. The previous few times I'd looked but it was just an administrator or guard come to escort the person to their meeting, so I didn't even bother looking up from my phone.
Except this time there were audible gasps from the people in the waiting room.
I looked up to see Promethean standing there, looking every bit like the golden god I'd met before. He had a knowing little smile as he made eye contact with me and beckoned me to come inside.
I felt a flutter of excitement but was determined not to look like a total rabid fangirl in front of everybody so I just calmly stood up, swept my hair over my shoulder with a flourish, and briskly and confidently walked over to meet my idol. I had a little smirk as I made eye contact with some of the other people in the waiting room and tried to look cool and nonchalant about it like, "Oh, sure, I'm just here to see Promethean. He invited me to be his new partner, no biggie. So, who are you here to see?"
"Prodigious Girl," he said warmly as he shook my hand.
"Thank you for seeing me. I, uh, know you're busy what with the world always being in danger and all."
I hoped I wasn't being evaluated on my witty repartee. I managed to fight down my pained expression, but he just smiled. God, that smile.
"So I take this to mean that you're in the market for a new mentor?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, please," I said, trying not to sound desperate. "But there's actually something else I need to talk to you about. I think there's a threat, maybe to the whole city."
For the next few minutes I laid it all out for him. Killdozer and Killbane becoming Viridian and Blamestorm, Harridan's not-so-coincidental involvement, and Demetria's connection. He nodded thoughtfully as he listened and waited until I finished to speak.
"These are serious charges. Do you have proof?"
"I do. I think. Demetria helped Killdozer and Killbane to register as heroes. She had to know who they were. That's got to at least be worth looking into, right?" I held my breath as I waited to see Promethean's response, suddenly realizing how circumstantial it all must seem, especially when I carefully omitted the part about hacking into the Hero Registration system since I didn't think he'd approve.
He tapped the I-Comm unit on his wrist. "OverC/R, collect everything we've got on Demetria and her Sanctuary operation. I want to review it immediately."
"At once, Promethean," the synthetic female voice replied.
I gave him a befuddled little smile.
"Something amuses you?"
"I think I'm in love," I sighed. Then, I quickly amended, "I—I mean, I just can't believe you're doing that just on my say-so. You hardly know me."
"Prodigious Girl, if we're going to work together, we'll be trusting each other with our lives. Looking into it is the least I can do," he told me. "And you're mistaken, I do know you."
I shook my head slightly. "Well, we met the one time—"
"Give me some credit. I make a point of researching all of my prospective partners. I've been very impressed with your career thus far. You're smart, brave, committed, and strong. I daresay very mature for your age."
"Wow, thanks," I said.
He paused for a moment and looked at me like he was making up his mind about something. "In fact, why don't you come with me? There's something I want to show you."
He took to the air and as I flew after him through the maze of corridors in the Liberty Squadron's base, I was practically on the verge of nerdgasm as I peeked this way and that at all of the rooms and sights that I never dreamed I'd get to see. And certainly not with Promethean as my tour guide!
He glanced over at me as we flew. "I don't mean to be forward, but if we're going to team up, I imagine you'll need to change your name. You're not attached to 'Prodigious Girl,' are you?"
"Oh, hell no," I said with relief before I noticed his disapproving look. I'd forgotten he had a thing about swearing. "Um, I mean, no, no, I'm open to something new," I hastily amended.
"Good. My people already have a few possible names reserved. How do you feel about 'Princess Promethea?'"
I made a face but quickly tried to cover it. "Oh. Um, that's good..." I said unenthusiastically. It was bad enough that I was stuck as a girl without piling on the 'princess' junk.
He laughed once. "Yes, I hate it, too. It's just as well, it tested poorly with the focus groups. People are concerned enough about metahumans without us adopting titles of royalty," he said. "And it has the unfortunate side effect of making you sound like Promethea's partner. Do you know her?"
"N-not personally," I stammered. Promethea was his female counterpart, a female clone that Doctor Malevolence had originally created to use against Promethean before she broke free of his control and became one of the good guys. She wasn't quite as powerful as he was, but she had all of his powers—flight, strength, invulnerability, laser vision—the whole shooting match.
"I don't much care for her, myself. I can't abide clones," he confided. "And I wasn't particularly enamored with her taking my name, either, but my people tell me that given her powers and history it plays well with the marketing. All part of the 'Promethean Family,' as they call it."
"I, uh, never met her."
"Well, don't worry about it. I'd prefer to keep you close, anyway. The other name they suggested for you was 'Asteria,' who I understand was something like a cousin to Prometheus in Greek mythology. Goddess of shooting stars or some such."
"That sounds great," I said. "That all sounds great." Then something occurred to me at his mention of the 'Promethean Family.' "But what about Kid Promethean and PrometheLad? Aren't they your sidekicks, too? Will I be working with them?"
He made a small grumble. "Those two are competitive. They enjoy vying for the number two spot, so they prefer that I don't interfere and steal their thunder. Boys will be boys, you know."
I glanced away. "Yeah, I get that."
"Ah, here we are." He landed in front of what appeared to be a warp gate projector, but it had a lot more hardware around it. I watched as Promethean entered some codes into the control panel and the portal sprang to life with a sparkling curtain of energy.
"Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the portal.
I hesitated slightly but didn't want to look timid in front of my new mentor, so I took a breath and confidently walked into the swirling energy vortex.
When I emerged I felt enormously queasy. It took me a few moments just to get my bearings, by which time Promethean had already followed me through.
"Don't worry, everyone gets that reaction at first," he said as he switched the portal off.
I nodded as I tried to shake it off. "So where...are...holy shit," I gasped.
I'm sure Promethean made another disapproving frown at my language, but I didn't care. I flew off of the balcony we were standing on to look at the brilliant latticework of the structure we were now in, which was like an elaborate onyx stone with massive windows that looked out onto a lush tropical jungle. The greenery was a sharp contrast to the ebon-black walls and floors of the building we were now in, and as I looked in amazement at the alien technology here and there, I realized that there were no ramps or staircases going from floor to floor. This place was specifically built for someone who could fly.
"Oh, my God," I said, covering my mouth. "Is this— Are we—?"
He had a small smile on his face as he nodded.
"I didn't think this place existed!"
"I'd prefer that people think that," he said as he floated out to meet me. "I'm not here as often as I'd like, and it would be a tempting target for my enemies."
I was almost breathless. "I—I don't know what to say. Thank you!" I said as I looked at him in amazement.
"I'm glad you like it. Although this wasn't the only thing I wanted to show you."
"You mean there's more?"
He took me by the hand and guided me to one of the levels where there were a number of open alcoves. I noticed that the one down at the end seemed to have a light on with a female robot or something inside it.
"I hope this doesn't seem overly presumptuous," he said as he guided me down the hallway. "But after we spoke the first time I very much hoped you'd take me up on my offer. So I took the liberty of making this."
I was grinning like an idiot as I turned to see the figure in the alcove. Now that I was up close I realized that it was actually a 3-D holographic image of a woman that was being projected from a machine that was reminiscent of the CosFab system that I'd used to fashion my own costume, only far more sophisticated. At first I didn't understand what I was supposed to be looking at until the hologram rotated and I realized that the image of the woman was also wearing a costume.
If you could call it that.
The costume was insanely provocative and revealing with two slender fabric straps that were attached to a choker and came down her body, scarcely covering her nipples before plunging down to her waist where they attached to a very scant bikini bottom. Apart from some gloves and boots and a short little cape the rest of the "costume" was mostly bare and showed so much skin that I could only assume that it would stay in place with the power of wishful thinking.
Then I realized that the hologram's face and hair was unsettlingly familiar and her physique unusually buxom. One might even say prodigiously so.
My face froze as I stared in disbelief at the minuscule scraps of cloth that comprised the costume. Hesitantly I made my way further into the alcove around the back to peek past the digital model's short cape and noticed how the thong back of her panties was wedged between her bare buttocks. As I gaped at the slowly-rotating image, I then noticed that the little strips of cloth all converged at her crotch where the designer had thoughtfully highlighted the area with a bright gold fabric star, leaving no doubt which part of her anatomy that "shooting star" was streaking towards.
My mouth suddenly felt very dry. "Wow," I said. "It, uh, sure is...economical...in its use of fabric."
"I'm glad you like it," Promethean responded. "I designed it myself. I had to stick to the standard color palette, of course."
"Uh huh," I said as I noted the signature white, red, and gold colors that Promethean favored. "You know, I'm totally fine with the colors. Just kinda wishing they were more, uh, easily noticed? Like from a distance? Maybe a large distance?"
"Why don't you try it on?"
My breathing became fast and shallow as I became acutely aware how I'd backed myself into the alcove with the hologram and that Promethean now stood between me and freedom. I pressed myself against the side of the alcove and edged towards him as I hugged the wall, hoping that I could sneak past him and get into the main room where I could get some space to maneuver.
I smiled nervously, suddenly very uncomfortable with the way he was looking at me.
"So, earlier when you said that you admired my 'maturity,' you meant..."
"Don't be coy, 'Prodigious Girl,'" he said, using my name like a taunt. "Most girls would give anything to be in your position."
"Believe me, I am not like most girls," I said.
Before he could respond I launched myself at him at top speed with my arm outstretched to shove him back so I could get by. But as my hand made contact with his chest he moved with blinding speed and before I knew it he'd grabbed both my wrists in his hands and locked them in an unbreakable grip. I barely had time to register what he'd done before he pressed himself against me and kissed me roughly.
I managed to pull my head back. "Please! This—this isn't—"
My plea was cut short as he kissed me again and he pinned both my wrists with one hand while his other hand slid down my body and groped my chest.
My mind raced out of control as I tried to fathom what my idol was doing to me—what he intended to do to me!—and I panicked as I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and struggled uselessly in his grasp as his hands began to explore my body. I frantically gasped for air as I realized with horror that there was absolutely nothing I could to do to stop him.
I was helpless.
...And that's when it happened.
I wasn't even aware of it at first, but what started like a buzzing in my brain turned into a blazing-hot fire that felt like it was going to sear through my eyelids. I opened my eyes and suddenly realized that the fire was coming out of me, twin lances of blazing white-hot energy that escaped through my eyes and burned through everything they touched.
Including Promethean.
"AAAAAHHH!!" he cried out in agony as he clutched at his shoulder were the beams had pierced straight through his body and out the other side. He dropped me and I reflexively closed my eyes, and when I looked up again and looked around, the blasts—still coming out of my eyes—cut a swath of destruction through the complex, and then right across the enormous plate-glass windows where they blasted a hole to the jungle outside. Freedom!
I closed my eyes and flew full-speed at the hole and smashed through the debris to get outside. By now the burning sensation had subsided, so I chanced to open my eyes and discovered that the blasts had stopped, at least for the moment.
Terrified and disoriented, all I could think to do was to put as much distance between myself and that bastard as possible. I tore away from the island as fast as I could, but I quickly paused to take stock of my situation when I realized that it was the only land in sight.
Where the hell was I?
I couldn't get a signal on my I-Comm unit, but fortunately the device had a built-in GPS. I tapped at the controls as it locked in my location and the map showed nothing but a field of endless blue.
I zoomed out. Blue.
I zoomed out again. Still blue.
Finally, the map showed my location, six hundred miles southeast of Bermuda in the middle of the motherfucking Atlantic Ocean, almost 1400 miles from home.
I pulled at my hair and screamed in frustration before I looked back reluctantly at Promethean's island getaway. He hadn't yet given chase but I didn't think I'd wounded him that badly, so I figured that right now he was probably watching me with that super-vision of his and wondering what I was going to do. After what I'd done to him I doubted he'd be bold enough to try something again, but the thought of flying back to him with my cape between my legs and bumming a ride home after what he did... No. No way.
My top flying speed was just over three hundred miles per hour, so I figured if I pushed it I could be home in about five hours or so. I'd never attempted anything like that before and if I'd been thinking more clearly I never would have even considered it...it was insanity. Then I took one last look at the island behind me.
"Fuck it," I said, heading for home.
The flight home was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. I was strong and had a terrific stamina, but this pushed me to the limits of my endurance and beyond. My experience as Prodigious Girl had trained me to use my flight for short quick bursts in combat or to race top-speed across the city to disarm a bomb, but this was like a sprinter who showed up one day to run a marathon without bothering to train for it and saying, "Hey, I'm in good shape, how hard could it possibly be?"
Promethean didn't try to stop me and after I realized the magnitude of the journey I'd undertaken I darkly wondered if maybe he secretly hoped that I would conk out somewhere halfway where my body would quietly sink to the bottom of the ocean and nobody would be any the wiser as to what had happened to me. There were probably even a few villains who would be happy to take credit for my disappearance, too. But I resolved that there was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction.
It was hours before I was even within range of a cell tower, so my long flight gave me a lot of time to think and I found myself replaying what had happened in my mind again and again. My first realization was that absolutely nobody was going to believe me. Hell, I still couldn't believe it, myself. I mean, he was one of the world's greatest heroes, and I was just some little-known sidekick whose greatest claim to fame was her willingness to show off her boobs. I soon began to wonder if my lack of experience as a girl might have led me to encourage him somehow. Maybe I had said or done something to lead him on? My little light banter and teasing might have been construed as flirting. And I guessed it was possible he assumed I was eighteen—
"No," I said to myself as I gripped my hands into tight fists. I was a superhero, dammit. I wasn't going to do this to myself. What happened, happened, and it wasn't my fault. "It's not my fault. It's not my fault." It became like a mantra in my head.
I flew along and saw shapes in the clouds and they all reminded me of his face hovering inches in front of mine as I grappled with the memory of him pressed against me and wrestling me into submission as I felt his hands on my body. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt tears run down my cheeks at the memory. Why the hell hadn't I done anything? Said anything? I hardly fought back! I hadn't even told him no! Now that I had time to think I realized the ten thousand and six things I could have done—should have done—if only I hadn't frozen up.
"Not. My. Fault." I repeated.
I was so angry at myself that when I encountered a storm along my flight path I welcomed it as the thunder and rain drowned out my anguished sobs and tears.
It was nearly eight hours before I saw the mainland and not long after that before I saw the gleaming skyline of Faraday City. I made it to a secluded park not far from home feeling both physically and emotionally spent and I practically kissed the ground when I finally collapsed onto the cool grass. As I lay there flat on my back I caught my breath and stared up at the sky and soon realized that I was in the same park where I'd gotten my superpowers all those months earlier. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd known then what I'd have to go through if I wouldn't have run away even faster.
In the distance I could hear the sounds of the city and the occasional police siren and I gave a tired laugh as I fought a reflexive urge to go help, despite the fact that I was in absolutely no shape to help anybody. Heck, I was lucky to be alive.
And I still had a reckoning of my own yet to face.
I changed back into Chris and as I looked at my cell phone I cringed at the time. For a moment I considered calling home, but I was only a few minutes away and I knew that a phone call at this point wasn't going to score me any points...it was way too late for that. No, it was time to go home and face the music.
* * * * *
I discreetly landed about a block away from home and made the rest of the way on foot. After my epic flight it actually felt like a relief to just walk along the quiet streets of my neighborhood like I used to do before I got my powers.
When I saw our house with the lights on, I felt mixed emotions. I knew I was about to walk into a buzzsaw, but there was also nowhere else on earth that I wanted to go at that moment. So I took a deep breath and entered the front door, and sure enough, Mom and Dad were both there waiting for me and spoiling for a fight.
"Christopher! Where have you been?" my mom demanded.
"I'm very disapp—" My father stopped short when he saw the look on my face. "Son?" he asked.
My mother saw it, too. "Honey, what's wrong?"
I shook my head helplessly as I struggled against the lump in my throat. "It's nothing. It's stupid."
My parents glanced at each other, obviously weighing their role as disciplinarians against their concern for me. "Why don't you go upstairs and get changed," my father said. It took me a minute to realize he was talking about changing into a dress.
Oh, God, not again with this idiocy, I thought. My shoulders slumped as I gave them a pleading look. "Mom, Dad...could we please not do that tonight? Please?"
They looked at each other again and my dad raised his eyebrows questioningly to my mom. In response, she just sighed a little and put her arm around me and guided me towards the stairs. "Go on up and get started, Chris. I'll be up in a minute."
I gave a pathetic little grumble of complaint and trudged upstairs with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner being led to the gallows. When things were going well I was content to put up with this stupid humiliation, figuring that this was the price I had to pay for my heroic destiny. But now it just felt like one more reminder of what a loser I was and how I'd managed to muck up my life so completely on every conceivable level. As I entered my room and saw my vanity, makeup, and wig on conspicuous display they felt symbolic of all my many mistakes, on prominent display for all the world to see and ridicule.
Then my eyes fell on the big poster of Promethean that hung over my bed.
I almost jumped back in fear at first, and as he stood there right above my bedposts it made my skin crawl as it looked like he was inviting me into bed. I glared at his smug, smirking face and ran up to it and ripped it off the wall, crumpled it up, and stuffed it in the trash.
There was a gentle knock at the door as my Mom entered.
"Mom—"
"Shh," she said, touching my hair gently. "You know the rules. Get washed up, I'll be right back."
By the time I'd cleaned up and splashed some water on my face, my mom had returned with a pair of her jeans and flat sandals. "I know we said dresses and skirts, but just this once, I think we can make an exception," she said.
She turned around and I changed into the clothes, with my painted toenails on display in her sandals.
"And the rest."
"Mom—" I repeated, but the look on her face told me she wasn't going to budge. Grudgingly I retrieved one of my brassieres and tried to ignore her knowing little look as I deftly worked the clasp as I put it on. But her smile faded into a disapproving little moue as I hefted the two large breast forms into the cups and adjusted the bra. I desperately wanted to try and explain again how all this wasn't what it seemed, but I wasn't in the mood to get into a debate with my mother about how big my breasts should be, so I let it drop.
She went to my dresser and pulled out a hot pink top. "Here, you can wear this," she said as she handed it to me. It was my Prodigious Girl T-shirt.
I blanched. "Why don't I just wear the blouse with the flowers—"
"Chris, it's okay. I know you like her. It's okay if you do."
I started to object, but she gave me a nod of encouragement and I thought better of it. Though I could have done without having to stand in front of her as I struggled to pull it down over my jutting falsies.
"I think you might need a size bigger," she observed with a little smirk. "Okay, sit down."
I sat down at the vanity and started to reach for my makeup when she stopped me. Instead, she pulled the chair over from my desk and sat down in front of me and reached for the foundation.
"Mom, I really don't—"
"Oh, shush. It's not like I'm going to have a daughter to do this with," she said as she started working on my face. "And you're obviously not in the mood. Besides, there's something I want to talk to you about and I want you to listen."
I really wasn't in the mood for a lecture, either. "Mom, I'm okay, really. It's just some stupid pointless stuff with my friends. I screwed up and everyone's upset. But I've got it handled, honest." That last part was a lie, of course. I hated lying to her but there was nothing she could do for me, anyway. "I'm sorry I broke curfew, it won't happen again."
She scoffed as she continued applying the makeup to my face. "Your father and I raised the worst liar in the world. I'm not sure how to feel about that."
"Mom, I didn't—"
"Shush, keep your eyes closed," she said. "Chris, I know this all must seem horribly random and unfair and cruel of us to do this to you. And yes, this is punishment, which is why you're not getting a night off, no matter what happened with your friends tonight. But before we decided on this punishment, your father and I talked for quite some time about it. Do you know why we chose to make you do this?"
"You said it was punishment for lying and stealing and sneaking around," I said.
"That's right, we want you to be honest and to know the price of dishonesty. Do you think this is a fair punishment?"
I hesitated, not quite sure how to answer.
"Christopher, in light of what I said just this very second about honesty, I—"
"Okay, okay," I said. "Well, no. This was totally disproportionate," I complained. "I mean, apologizing to Lori and paying her back for the clothes, sure. But now you've outed me to my friends and everyone in school knows, and everybody thinks that I can't wait to run home every day and dress like this. I'll never live it down."
"All this superhero nonsense has gotten into your head," she said absently. My eyes were still closed so I couldn't read her expression so I just held my breath, not sure if her sudden apparent change of subject meant what I thought it meant. "You've idolized them since you were little, ever since..." Her voice trailed off and I knew she was probably looking around my bedroom at the posters and memorabilia. "But they're dangerous, and not only in the ways that are obvious," she said cryptically.
I opened my eyes. "Ever since when?"
She sat back a little and regarded me quietly. "You don't remember, do you? I guess it's not surprising, you were very young. Close your eyes." I did so and she started working on my eyes again. "It was Christmastime and we were all at the mall to take you to see Santa and do some shopping when you wandered off. Your father and I were absolutely frantic looking for you. And right then was when a fight broke out between the supers. It was chaos. People were running and screaming, there was shooting and explosions. One of the heroes tried to force us back to safety but your father shoved past him and nearly got himself killed when a huge explosion went off that shook the whole mall and knocked me off my feet. I was sure I'd lost you, maybe even both of you."
"What happened?" I whispered.
"Your father managed to make it out—that's how he got that scar on his leg—but he was ready to start digging for you right then. But out of nowhere one of the heroines flew down with you in her arms, like an angel delivering you to us. You were clinging to her—you were never clingy, even as a baby—but you weren't at all scared. You just kept looking at her and touching her face. When she handed you over to me you had this big smile like you didn't have a care in the world."
"Who was she?"
"I don't know. Pretty young thing. I never knew her name."
I sat quietly and thought about that, how I owed my life to the actions of some nameless and faceless savior, an anonymous hero of the city. I wondered how much she might have unknowingly shaped my life after that fateful day, inspiring me in ways that I never fully appreciated. Then I flashed back to my little cousin Lydia turning her Barbie into a superhero after our little adventure together and wondered what effect I might have had on her.
Mom was quiet for a moment and then the tone of her voice changed, less wistful and more pointed. "Tell me. This Prodigious Girl," she said, obviously reading the name stretched across my bosom, "why do you like her so much?"
"Well," I started uncertainly, "she's cute..."
Mom jerked her hands away and snapped, "Christopher Yancy Patterson, so help me, if you tell me the only reason you like her is for her figure, I swear you'll be going to school for the rest of the year in my old wedding dress!"
"It's not!" I said in a panic as I stared into her angry face. "I like that—that she's a teenager like me. It's kind of cool to think a teen could make a difference. And she's smart, and funny—well, pretty funny—and she cares about helping people, and she's a good teammate, I guess. And she's not ashamed of who she is, either. She's serious about helping people, but she's not all humorless about it."
"Hmm," Mom said as she picked up the mascara wand, "if she's so unashamed, why do you think she wears that mask?"
"I dunno," I said, looking up and down as she applied the mascara. "Maybe she's protecting someone close to her. Or maybe she thinks they wouldn't understand why she's doing it."
"I could believe that," she admitted as she chose a lipstick from the vanity and applied it to my lips. She gave me a satisfied once over and then got up to retrieve my wig from the wig stand and brushed it out with her fingers. "Chris," she said as she put the wig on my head and fussed at it, "I don't know if you really enjoy dressing up like this or not. Maybe this was just something you liked to do in private, or maybe it's something else. And I don't care."
"Mom—"
"No, listen. I mean that, Chris...your father and I really, truly don't care. And I hope by now that you know that we love you. But you're a teenager and the train is fast leaving the station for us to help steer you on the right course."
I gave her a funny look. "You don't really steer a train."
"Work with me, kiddo."
I made a little face as I thought about what she was saying and absently brushed at the blonde hairs of my wig that fell in my face. "So me dressing up like a Barbie doll is some kind of life lesson?"
She put her hands in her lap and got a faraway look on her face. "Chris...you're very bright. But some lessons only come with maturity, and maybe you're not old enough yet to understand what I'm about to tell you." She looked me in the eyes. "I know you're embarrassed by this, and it's killing me to hurt you, please believe me. But this kind of shame is a crucible, and I know in my heart you're going to pass through it. But the other kind of shame—the one that tells you it's somehow okay to hate who you are, to have to live with a secret and have to hide it away—it's insidious. It eats at you from the inside. And I—we—couldn't bear to see you live with that."
She took a tremulous breath and as I looked at her I could tell there was something deep and personal that she wasn't telling me. I wondered what had happened to her.
"Mom—"
"No, let me finish. I know you think this punishment is awful and you probably think we're monsters for doing it to you. But please believe me when I say that if it feels hard to show the world who you really are, then hiding it—denying it—is much, much worse. Does that make any kind of sense?"
I thought about my time as Prodigious Girl and how it made me feel to be a hero. The sense of purpose, of belonging, of being on the right path, even when it was difficult. Then I tried to imagine my life without that, forced to live with a constant yearning for a life which other people kept telling me I wasn't good enough.
Like Promethean.
Or Prodigy.
Screw them. I was a hero, dammit. With or without them.
"Yeah, I think I know what that feels like," I whispered. Then, seeing her vulnerable expression, I took her by the hands and leaned close. "And I don't think you're monsters," I told her, as she smiled and blinked back tears. "Though I think I might have learned my lesson without having to wear a miniskirt to the pep rally..."
She smiled. "We improvise a lot. Parenthood is like that," she said. "Look, Chris, I know you think this is a lousy deal. Punishments are like that. But let's be honest. You and I both know that I couldn't have forced you to dress like this if you didn't really want to."
"Mom, I don't really—"
She waved her hand. "I don't mean it like that," she said. Then she cocked her head and gave me a discerning look. "So, why'd you let me dress you up like this just now? For that matter, why have you been dressing up every day after school?"
"You said I had to."
"So what? If you said 'no,' what could we have done to force you?"
I thought about that. "Not much, I guess."
"Chris, at your age, a punishment is really just a promise that you make to us. You could take off these clothes, break curfew, or blow off your chores every day if you wanted to. But you're demonstrating a willingness to own your mistakes, respect our judgment, and stand by your word, even when it's really difficult and embarrassing to do that. Honesty is important, but so is integrity."
"So this is a test?"
"Yes, and you're passing wonderfully. But it's also a test for your dad and me. Because I meant what I said before...we don't care if this is something you want. If you really do love doing this and want to stay this way, it doesn't matter to us one way or the other. You can come to us with anything. We'll still love you just the same."
My lip twitched a little and I sniffled. "Thanks, Mom," I said, feeling a lump in my throat again.
She leaned in for a hug. "Okay, don't cry or you'll ruin your makeup."
I gave her a wan smile and turned towards the mirror, curious to see what she'd done. "Yeah, what did—great moons of Krypton," I gasped as I saw myself. I turned back and forth to admire my reflection in the mirror. "How did you do that with my eyes? That looks great!"
"I can show you sometime if you like," she said. "I never thought I'd be passing makeup tips on to my son, but whatcha gonna do?"
I blushed in response, embarrassed at being so girlishly effusive about my makeup.
She obviously noticed my discomfiture and snuggled up next to me so that we were side-by-side in the mirror. "You know something? Your friends are idiots," she proclaimed. "You're awesome, and I've never seen you break something that you didn't fix. Whatever this Ultimate mess is that you're in, I'm sure you'll make it right. Like you said, it's just Frisbee. It's not like lives are on the line."
'Ultimate mess.' She had no idea how close she was to the truth. But my smile broadened a little. "Thanks, Mom."
"Also, you're really cute. And I'm not just saying that as your mother."
I looked at my attractive feminine reflection in the mirror and furrowed my brow.
She read my face and added, "Oh, I mean as a boy and as a girl. Seriously, you go either way, you're good."
"Mom!"
"I'm just saying you have options!" she teased. "Girls and/or guys are going to be falling for you."
"Mo-ther!"
She laughed and stood up, then kissed me on the head. "I swear you are such a girl when you're like this."
"Hey, I'm still a minor, you know! You're gonna have to pay for my therapy!"
"I don't think the concept of 'you break it, you bought it' applies to my teenage son's fragile gender identity," she said with a smirk as she headed for the door.
"Out!" I cried, throwing a pillow at her.
She ducked behind the door to dodge the pillow and then said, "I left some dinner in the fridge. Come on down when you're hungry and I can heat it up." She then gestured at the little jewelry box on my dresser. "And your little red earrings would look cute with that top," she suggested before retreating downstairs.
I turned back to face my girlish reflection and looked deep into the eyes of the girl in the mirror. "Okay, Prodigious Girl," I said, "if you're so awesome, what are you going to do to fix all this?"
The next day I woke up late and went for a flight around the city. At first I tried to fool myself that I was just doing it to clear my head, but as it got close to lunchtime I soon realized that I was making a beeline for a very specific destination.
"You're quiet today," Marty Maddox said as we sat on the roof of his building and looked out at the skyline. He'd offered me a sandwich but I'd turned it down since I wasn't feeling especially hungry.
"Sorry, I guess I'm just distracted," I said. I turned to look at him and wondered why I kept coming back. At first I'd been excited to meet someone who'd brushed elbows with the old guard of superheroes, but now after my encounter with Promethean they suddenly held a lot less fascination for me. Now Marty just looked like a chubby middle-aged has-been. His company had done a lot of good helping the heroes of Faraday City, but having gone from a superhero's sidekick to this made him seem like a poster child for wasted potential.
"You look like someone with a big decision to make," he observed as he took a bite of his sandwich.
"Yeah," I said with a sigh. Originally I'd hoped to get some advice from him but now that I was here he felt like the wrong person to ask. And my crisis of conscience notwithstanding, I wasn't sure there was a delicate way of saying, "Hey, you know Promethean, that guy you used to go on adventures with? He tried to molest me yesterday. What's up with that?"
"I don't think I want to talk about it," I told him.
"Well, I'm sure you'll make the right choice, miss," he said. "One thing I've learned is that you don't have to be a hero to do the right thing. And don't feel like you have to carry the weight of the world on your back. In this town there are plenty of heroes to shoulder the burden."
Translation: just give up. That's what he did.
I'd be lying if I said the idea didn't have some appeal. Being a superhero was pretty cool, but my female identities now outnumbered my male identity two to one and in the "boys against the girls" tug of war that my life had become, the male side was taking a wicked beating. Maybe taking a break from the whole thing would be for the best, after all. Just quietly serve out my remaining time in dresses and give up being Prodigious Girl. I could pick up heroing again in a year or two, or maybe wait until after I was done with college and settled down...I could always do it later, right? Assuming I still wanted to.
I looked down towards the street and noticed something that had been bothering me.
"Say...what's the story with your company name? 'AGON Technologies,' is that like an acronym or something?"
He smiled at that, giving me that toothy grin that went all the way up to his eyes. "I keep forgetting how young you are. You probably don't remember the Unanimity Invasion, do you?"
I shook my head. "I read a little about it. Some cyborg alien creatures, I think?"
"They leveled half the city. It was nuts. Heck, some of the villains even fought side-by-side with the heroes to repel the invaders. Back then my company was named Paragon Technologies, but part of the signage was destroyed in the fighting so it just read 'agon Technologies.' So when we rebuilt I decided to rebrand."
I gave him a funny smile. "I don't get it. Wouldn't it have been easier to just fix the sign?"
"That wasn't the point. You see, the Greek god Agon was a god of conflict and struggle. In fact, 'agon' is the root of the words 'protagonist' and 'antagonist.' With all the rampaging super-monsters and metahuman fights that break out it feels like the city has been defined by its struggles."
"Is that where 'agony' comes from, too?"
He smiled again. "Yeah, well, nobody said that conflict was easy. It can be painful and even arduous at times."
I sat quietly as I thought about that. I was definitely feeling that pain at the moment, and my current struggles seemed maybe hopeless. And the notion that my decision to be a hero might be setting me on a path of never-ending conflict didn't fill me with much joy.
I stood up.
"Did you come to a decision, miss?"
I took a step off the building and hovered there for a moment as I turned to look at him. "Yeah, I think I know what I have to do. I just don't want to do it," I told him before I flew off into the city.
* * * * *
I dragged my feet (as much as one could do so while flying), but after ruminating on it, I came to an inescapable conclusion. I wasn't sure how to fix everything, but I knew where I had to start.
I burst angrily into Prodigy's garage to find him already there, typing on the computer. I was full of fire and righteous indignation and fully ready to tear into him for summarily dismissing me after everything I'd done for him and fully ready to make him listen if he wasn't inclined to do so voluntarily. I was just about to open my mouth when he calmly spun in his chair to look at me. He sized me up dispassionately and said, "So, should I get the rape kit?"
I felt like the air had been torn from my lungs as I stared at him in utter shock and disbelief. "You knew?" I whispered. "YOU KNEW?!?"
A flash of anger surged inside of me and without even realizing it I threw a metal workbench out of my path. It slammed into the side of the car with such force that the car was knocked ten feet to the side and I stalked up to Prodigy with dire intent, not even sure what I was going to do when I reached him. It was bad enough that Prodigy would treat me like he did, but to let me go off with Promethean like that, knowing that he might—? My hands trembled with rage.
He stood up to face me and calmly said, "There were rumors."
"Rumors?" I cried. "You let me walk off with that scumbag to his private little love nest and never said a thing! He nearly— He nearly—" I couldn't even bring myself to say the words.
"So, he didn't—?"
"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" I screamed as tears streaked my vision. "He would have if I hadn't managed to fight him off!"
He raised his eyebrows. "You did that? Hm."
"I'm glad you're impressed," I sneered.
"And now you're back here, proving once again that you haven't learned a goddamn thing."
"That's not true. I've learned that every one of you so-called heroes is really just an opportunistic douchebag who's looking out for number one, and I'd be better off going my own way rather than hitching my wagon to any of the lot of you."
"Huh. You learned that a damn sight faster than I ever did. I must be a hell of a good teacher."
"Yes, when it comes to opportunistic douchebaggery, you're the master."
"Well, what the fuck do you want from me?" he snapped back. "What did you want me to do?"
"You could have warned me! You could have told me what I was walking into!"
"Oh, right. Like you would have believed me. 'Hey, don't let the door hit your fat ass on the way out. Oh, and by the way, the guy you idolize may have a thing for teenage girls, so be sure to wear something sexy.'"
"You should have stopped me!"
"How?" he demanded. "Just look at what you're capable of doing!" he yelled as he pointed at the damaged car. "How the hell am I supposed to stop you from doing anything? You want me to put you over my knee and spank you?"
"You were supposed to mentor me!" I cried as the tears streamed down my face. "You were supposed to keep me safe!"
"I CAN'T KEEP YOU SAFE, DANICA!"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he shut down and turned away as he leaned heavily against the computer console for support. Meanwhile I shook my head in confusion.
"Who the hell is Danica?" I asked. I sniffled and tried to remember why that name sounded so familiar. "Wait. You mean Starbrite? Demetria's daughter? What does she have—"
And that's when it hit me. Time slowed to a crawl as everything suddenly snapped into focus.
"Oh, sweet baby deity," I whispered. "Starbrite was your daughter." The pronouncement hung quietly in the air and when he didn't respond I wiped the tears from my face and took a step closer. "You and Demetria—?"
"It's none of your goddamn business."
"It's always been about her, hasn't it? About Starbrite. Even before I got here."
He shook his head ruefully as he kept his back to me. "You stupid kids think that because bullets bounce off of you that you can't be hurt by anything. You're going to get yourself killed."
I stared at him for a long moment as the pieces started to fall into place. "You bastard," I swore. "That's why you've been beating on me all this time! That's why you mistreated your other sidekicks and drove them away. You weren't just pushing us away from you, you made the experience as excruciating as possible so we'd give up on being heroes entirely." I took a step closer. "You think if we quit, we won't be killed like she was. You think you're keeping us safe."
He spun on me angrily. "I'm not going to be psychoanalyzed by some top-heavy teenage bunny in a cape."
"Yeah, well, I'm not going anywhere. You took your best shot and I'm still standing. What's your plan to get rid of me now?"
"You're an idiot. You think what you've done so far prepares you in any way for what's coming? You're going to die. You're going to die young. And your death will be completely and utterly devoid of meaning."
The intensity in his eyes stopped me in my tracks as I tried to think of a response. I could only think of one thing, but it was probably the most important thing.
"That's not up to you," I said firmly. "It's up to me. And don't tell me I'm too young or inexperienced. I know what I'm doing. I know the risks. But all those lives that I've saved have to count for something, too. I don't want to die, but I couldn't live with myself knowing that other people died when I could have done something to prevent it," I told him. "Besides, you said it yourself...you can't stop me."
You could hear a pin drop as we stared intently at each other. Then I heard the footsteps.
"You're wasting your breath, Prodigious Girl," a woman's voice came from off by the entrance. "Believe me, I've had this argument with him many times."
Prodigy and I both turned to see the three women entering the garage: Demetria, Harridan, and—
"Trixie?" I gasped in shock.
She looked at me sheepishly. "PG, I'm so sorry..."
At first I wasn't sure what she was apologizing for until I recalled the time that I had let slip to her the location of Prodigy's garage. She had obviously led Demetria and Harridan right to our doorstep, but I could only hope that it had been under duress.
"Am I late with my alimony check?" Prodigy mocked as he watched Demetria approach, but she seemed unperturbed and didn't respond to his taunt. "Surprised to see you. It's not like you to get your hands dirty yourself."
"You're both wanted by the authorities. I hoped that my presence here might help prevent an unnecessary confrontation."
"We don't want a fight," Trixie said.
"Speak for yourself," Harridan retorted. Crackling red energy licked up the length of her unsheathed quantum blade as her eyes cut between Prodigy and me. She touched a control on her other wrist and a crimson energy shield sprang into existence on her arm, a two and a half foot disk of protective force.
Harridan and I locked eyes with each other and I kept Prodigy in my peripheral vision to follow his lead, but so far he hadn't moved.
"Boss, I don't know what they're talking about, but this has to be about those villains she brainwashed," I said to him.
Trixie looked at me desperately. "Peej, I'm telling you, there's no conspiracy here."
Demetria and Harridan shared a quick glance. "Ehh..." Demetria said.
Trixie stared at her incredulously. "Wait, you mean you are brainwashing villains?"
"I prefer to think of it as conditioning, but yes."
"'Conditioning.' That's good," I shot back. "It seems so much less horrific when you make it sound like a hair care treatment. And I'm guessing you triggered Killdozer's meltdown?"
Demetria looked slightly distressed. "That was...unfortunate. Sometimes the process doesn't take and it causes a psychotic break. It's only in a minority of subjects. Well worth the risk."
"Worth the—?" I echoed. "He went wild and killed everyone he cared about! People are dead! You can't just go around messing with people's minds and creating these—these—zombies!"
She cocked her head slightly and regarded me with an almost bemused expression. "Prodigious Girl, I have to say I'm a little surprised by your reaction. After all, one of these 'zombies' as you so crudely put it is one of your best friends."
The room fell silent as her proclamation seemed to fill the space, but I just scoffed and shot her a disbelieving glance. "That is such BS. What are you talking ab—"
And then I turned to look at Trixie. We all did.
Trixie took a step back, wide-eyed. "What?" she whispered.
Demetria looked at her with concern—an almost motherly gesture if it wasn't so perverse—and said in a detached manner, "The process heightens empathy, increasing the subject's concern for others and gives them a societal attachment that many of them simply lack. It can affect their memories to varying degrees, but they emerge as selfless and heroic as any of Faraday City's finest heroes."
"It's a lie," Trixie said desperately. "You're lying."
Demetria shook her head sadly. "I am sorry, child. This was for the best, believe me."
Trixie took two more steps back and pressed her hands to the sides of her head like she was desperately trying to fight against some horrible internal struggle. "It's a lie," she repeated as her face lost expression. Before I could say or do anything, one of her sparkling energy portals whisked her away to parts unknown.
Harridan shot an apprehensive look to Demetria, but Demetria looked unconcerned. If anything, she only seemed slightly disappointed. "Let her go," she said gently. "She'll be back eventually. After all, where else does she have to go?"
Prodigy, who had been mutely observing this entire exchange, made a guttural noise. "Well, I can see you're still good with kids," he deadpanned. "Jesus, Demi, what the hell happened to you?"
"The world happened to me. And please don't get on your high horse. A lecture from you about the end not justifying the means would seem a little hypocritical, don't you think?"
He looked down at the ground and gave a sigh that had it come from anybody else I would have taken as a sign of remorse. But when his eyes cut back up at her, he was all business. "How many are you going to do?" he asked.
"The entire city."
"All at once? You always did have a flair for the dramatic."
I looked between them. "Wait, what?" I said. I felt like I'd missed something.
Prodigy shook his head and smiled ruefully. "Kid, don't be stupid. They wouldn't be here over a few lost lambs. They're here to stop us from interfering with their next move. Though I am a little curious why you felt the need to step in now?"
"You forced our hand," Demetria said. "It started when you realized the importance of the transdimensional communicators that I'd hired those mercenaries to steal, which forced Harridan to intervene."
Prodigy looked perplexed. "What are you talking about?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You must have found out. You investigated the disappearance of the communicators."
I raised my hand. "Actually, that was me."
"Oh. But then when you started digging into Killbane's reconditioning and his father's disappearance, I realized you were on to us."
I cleared my throat. "That was me, again."
Demetria looked at Prodigy. "But then you sent her to Promethean, yes? To gather help from the Liberty Squadron before attacking our Sanctuary?"
They both stared at each other for a moment before they turned back to look at me.
I shrugged. "That's not exactly how it happened, but I'm still totally taking credit for that one."
Demetria blinked, impressed. "Well, it obviously didn't go according to plan since you attacked him. He's issued a warrant for your arrest. And your mentor."
A flash of anger ran through me. "He did what?!? That ass! That is so not how it went down!"
She gave me a puzzled glance. "So you didn't somehow manage to lance a golfball-sized hole through the strongest man on Earth?"
The three of them stared at me in varying degrees of shock and disbelief.
"Okay, that one's on me," I admitted. "But he totally deserved it."
Prodigy regarded me appraisingly. "You really did beat up Promethean? Damn, I shouldn't have fired you."
"You didn't fire me, I quit."
"Said every teenager who was ever fired from a job."
I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. "You know, all I wanted was a cool name. That's all I wanted."
"I hear 'Viridian' is available," Harridan said with a dark and dangerous grin as she brandished her sword threateningly.
"It's a good name," I admitted. "Maybe I'll adopt it as an homage after I thrash you."
"I can't wait to see you try, darling," Harridan warned.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Prodigy had discreetly taken a step away from me so I tried to casually counter the move even as Harridan and I kept our eyes locked on each other. But as Prodigy and I tentatively took another step to separate ourselves I suddenly realized that I was only a few feet from one of the storage shelves and very nearly within reach of that hyper-dangerous Fig Newton thingy he'd warned me about earlier. Harridan was still too far away for me to engage with my fists, but I figured that thing might help ruin her day. I glanced over at Prodigy to try and discreetly signal him, but although his attention was still fixed on Demetria he shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"Wasting the super who bested Promethean, I kinda like the sound of that," Harridan said to me quietly so Demetria wouldn't overhear. She and Prodigy were still talking but I could only make out bits and pieces of their conversation as he approached her. Meanwhile, Harridan seemed to be getting dangerously close, but still just out of melee range.
"I'm gonna carve you up like a roast, girl," she threatened. I saw her muscles tense up like she was about to pounce.
In one move I dove to the side as I made a wild grab at the device. I could practically feel the breeze from Harridan's sword as it cleaved the air where I'd been standing and it sliced through the reinforced concrete floor like it was butter. I spun around to face her and fumbled with the device in my hands even as someone was yelling something, I don't even know who. I aimed it at Harridan and moved to push the button.
And that's when everything went black.
* * * * *
"Aaah!" I gasped as I woke up, feeling confused and highly disoriented. My emotions were a raging turmoil and I frantically tried to get them under control. Panic welled up in me before I felt a jolt of raw terror run up my spine, then a bizarre elation and euphoria which gave way to crushing despair. What the hell was wrong with me?
"Easy!" Prodigy's gruff voice came from right in front of me.
"I-I feel...I f-feel—" I struggled to form words.
"Everything. Yes, I know. Demetria dropped you with her mind blast. The effects will wear off in a minute. Just breathe."
I fought to get my bearings as the overwhelming tide of emotions I was experiencing started to subside a little. Eventually my breathing became more regular and I nodded as I took a deep cleansing breath. Prodigy was still right in front of me and as my head started to clear I slowly realized that when he spoke he had a weird tone to his voice, like he was genuinely concerned. I sniffled and realized that I'd been crying and I moved my hand to wipe the tears from my face. Except I couldn't move my hands.
I looked down. My arms were handcuffed behind my back.
I turned to face him in confusion.
"So, yeah, we're not doing so hot," he said.
I realized that we were still in Prodigy's garage, and I was on my knees with my back against one of the metal support pillars that held up the roof and my hands were manacled somehow behind my back. Prodigy, meanwhile, was also on his knees right in front of me with his arms around my waist, presumably with his hands also manacled around the pillar. We were practically nose-to-nose with each other and to someone looking at us we might have looked like we were making out with his arms wrapped around me.
"This is stupid," Harridan said to Demetria, both of whom were standing nearby. "Just let me kill them. Quick and clean."
"No. I told you, it needs to look like an accident. Prodigy keeps all sorts of dangerous materials here with questionable safety precautions. If there's an explosion, nobody will suspect foul play."
"I told you that you should be more careful with that stuff," I hissed at him.
"What are you, the EPA? Shut it!" he snapped back.
Harridan grudgingly stepped away while Demetria turned to face us. "I'm sorry it has to end this way, I truly am. But I'm not just making the world a better place, I'm building a utopia. No more supervillains, and everyone with metahuman powers fighting for the betterment of mankind. But there was always going to be a price." Behind her, we could hear Harridan fooling with the volatile chemical containers and I heard the sharp clang of metal followed by the sound of gas escaping.
I looked Demetria square in the eyes. "Is this what Danica would have wanted?"
I could tell my taunt hit home as there was a change across her face, and even Prodigy seemed taken aback at my reference to their daughter. But she looked at me sadly. "I don't know. Danica is dead. She paid the price for being a hero in a cruel and unjust world, just as you're going to do. But the world I'm going to build won't have those problems."
Prodigy looked like he was about to say something, but before he could speak Harridan stepped up to Demetria, who gave her a quick nod of assent. Harridan touched a control on her belt and they vanished in a bright rift of teleportation energy.
"She's nice. I can see what you saw in her," I remarked.
"She's not all bad."
"Well, she is trying to kill us."
"Maybe," he scoffed. "She was dumb enough to bind us with my own handcuffs. It's possible she figured I could sneak out of them after they left."
I sighed in relief. "Okay! So, do your thing, Houdini!" I said brightly.
He made an inarticulate little grumble. "It kind of defeats the point of escape-proof handcuffs if there's a trick for taking them off."
I blinked as that settled in. "Wait. Are you telling me I'm going to die because one of your stupid inventions actually worked?"
I didn't wait for him to respond since I knew immediately what I had to do. They'd bound my hands behind my back but obviously they hadn't counted on my enhanced strength, so I started to pull at my bonds behind me.
"AAAHHH!" Prodigy screamed out in pain. "Stop! Stop!"
I looked at him in bewilderment when I realized that it wasn't just one set of binders holding my wrists together. Prodigy and I had been bound to each other, left hand to left hand and right to right. When I was pulling, I'd been pulling on his arms.
"Oops. Sorry," I said.
I started to look around but I realized that by binding us together as they had they'd managed to hamstring me nicely. I couldn't exert my full strength without inflicting lethal damage on my mentor. I looked upwards figuring I might fly us to the top of the pillar and through the roof, but there was a mess of heavy equipment and reinforced steel at the top. If I hit it at top speed I might be able to punch through, but there was no way Prodigy would survive.
Prodigy's eyes darted around as he seemed to come to similar conclusions. "Let's try and get on our feet," he said.
What would normally have been an easy task was made vastly more difficult by our intertwined bodies and as we wiggled and struggled upwards, his foot slipped and he ended up going face-first right into my exposed cleavage.
"Really?" I snapped.
"It's not my fault," he contended.
"When is it ever?" I said. "Oh, that's it, I'm definitely getting out of here. There's no way I want them to find my dead body pressed up against an octogenarian looking like this."
"Yeah, well, this isn't exactly how I dreamed of making my big heroic exit either," Prodigy countered as we struggled to our feet. "Though I wouldn't worry about it. When those canisters go off, there's not gonna be a whole lot left of either of us. See if you can get to my belt."
I reached as far as I could but I soon realized I couldn't get to him without pulling his arm out of its socket. "I...can't."
"C'mon, you're a teenage girl. Don't you all take yoga and shit to be flexible?"
I was about to shoot back an angry retort when I remembered that I wasn't a teenage girl. For a moment I considered shifting back to Chris—secret identity be damned at this point—but that wouldn't be enough to get the manacles off. So instead I tried shapeshifting my hands and wrists to make them more slender. It might take a few minutes—hopefully less, based on the sounds of those canisters—but as I did so I could feel a little give in the manacles as I tugged at my arms and tried to wriggle myself free.
"Would you quit squirming like that?" Prodigy growled.
"I'm trying to get loose," I said as we both avoided eye contact and attempted to ignore the fact that my breasts were mashed up against his chest. I twisted my body to get a better angle. "Would you move—?"
"I can't!"
"Well, at least I'm trying something!" I yelled.
"Look, you stupid little bimbo! We wouldn't even be in this mess if—"
"Oh, you do not get to go there!" I warned him as I continued struggling. "This is all on you. Your stupid bad attitude, your stupid ex-wife, your stupid gadgets." My eyes cut over at him. "You are the worst mentor ever, you know that? All I ever wanted was to be a hero! And then when I got the chance I thought maybe I'd find somebody who would help show me the ropes a little."
"Oh, please. What a load of crap. You just wanted my name, just like all those other snot-nosed teenage punks. You're just waiting for me to die so you can call yourself by a stupid name that I never even wanted in the first place!"
Silence fell as we both glanced at each other and looked away guiltily.
"You're right," I admitted. "That's exactly why I came to you. But it's not a stupid name. It's your name. And you've done more with it than I ever could. So, if we manage to get out of this, I promise I'll drop it...nobody deserves to be Prodigy but you. It doesn't matter to me if I'm Prodigious Girl or Viridian or even Kid Flatulence...I just want to help people."
We were interrupted by the sound of a loud metallic clang from over by the canisters followed by a very insistent hissing noise that didn't sound at all good.
"Okay. I have a plan," Prodigy said. He took a deep breath. "I want you...to pull off my arms."
I stared at him in disbelief. "That is a terrible plan."
"Just do it quick. Yank as hard as you can and get me to a hospital—"
"You'll bleed to death!"
He swallowed and tilted his head in assent. "At least one of us would make it."
I gave him a knowing smile. "I knew you were warming up to me," I said. "But I have a better idea." With a final tug, I pulled my shapeshifted hands through the handcuffs and grinned triumphantly as he felt his bonds go slack.
He stepped back and stared at the handcuffs in disbelief. "How did you—?"
I gave a dismissive wave. "They were your crappy inventions. They were bound to fail."
Suddenly there was the sharp high-pitched shriek of metal giving way and I grabbed him in a hurry and launched myself at full speed towards one of the blacked-out windows high up on the ceiling. There was a deafening explosion and I could feel the heat of the blast as the shockwave sent us sailing upwards. It was all I could do to adjust our trajectory so that we crashed on the low rooftop of a building across the street and we came skidding to a halt as a series of new explosions erupted from the garage.
Slowly we stood up and after a brief nod to each other that we were all right, we made our way to the edge of the building and watched the fires consume the remnants of the destroyed garage. Through the smoke and fire I could just make out a few things I could recognize like one of his work benches and the silhouette of the badly-damaged car in the wreckage.
Prodigy's face was an unreadable mask as he surveyed the damage, but I gave him a hopeful little shrug. "Well, I know it looks bad, but maybe after it dies down we can salvage—"
*KA-BOOOM*
There was a brilliant green flash and the shockwave from this latest explosion knocked out every window in a two-block radius. It vaporized the entire building and I stared at the explosion stupidly for a second before Prodigy yanked me down behind cover. After a few seconds I slowly peered over the lip of the building and saw that the garage was nothing more than a hole in the ground, a smoking crater where a building used to be.
"That was the Fig Newton thing, wasn't it?" I whispered.
"Yeah, that was the Fig Newton thing," Prodigy replied.
* * * * *
"I can't believe we made it out," I said. Then I gave Prodigy a smug look. "How's that for showing initiative?" I declared.
"Well, I see someone's been snooping in her file," he said. "You want to know why I wrote that? Fine, I'll tell you. But first, you have to answer a question: why do you care?"
When he put it like that, I wasn't quite sure. "Um..."
He laughed once. "You don't even see it, do you? You're so desperate for validation that you're hung up on the opinion of an old has-been like me. And when I didn't give it to you, you ran straight into the arms of that bastard Promethean without even thinking. Tell me, what other mentor figures have you been running to for guidance? Mom and Dad, I bet. Any others? Maybe a guidance counselor at school?"
I thought about my meetings with Marty Maddox on the rooftop. It galled me that Prodigy had a point. "I wasn't looking for validation," I said.
"You're right. It was worse than that. You were looking for approbation. You constantly second-guess yourself, always worried about what other people think and desperate for their approval. That's what I meant when I wrote what I did. You could be a hell of a hero, but you can't afford this constant self-doubt. Heroes make split-second decisions when lives are on the line and we have to live with the consequences. If you can't do that, then you're gonna destroy yourself more effectively than I ever could."
"So why tell me this now?"
"Because despite my best efforts, it looks like you're serious about sticking with this superhero thing, yeah?"
I shot him a look of steely resolve. "Damn straight, old man."
He gave a resigned little chuckle. "Why am I not surprised?" he wondered. Then he furrowed his brow slightly. "Though, uh, sorry about calling you a stupid bimbo back there. That was out of line."
I sighed. "It's okay. I'm getting used to it. I guess I fit the profile."
"Hey, don't run yourself down like that," he said sharply. "There's no shortage of people out there who'll do that for you. No sense in helping them out, kid. Er, I mean, Prodigious Girl," he amended with the barest hint of a smile. "And if you want to change your name to something else to not be associated with a prickly old codger like me, I wouldn't blame you."
"Thanks."
"But I wouldn't go with Kid Flatulence. Just sayin'."
"Yeah. It's taken, anyway."
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
"That fucking registration system," he muttered.
I nodded sympathetically.
"So, I don't know if you've got better plans, but you want to go help beat up my vindictive witch of an ex-wife?"
"I was really hoping you were going to ask that."
"Well, let's go get 'em, Prodig—er, I mean, Viridian."
I flashed him a coy look as I tucked my hair back. "I'm kinda getting used to 'Prodigious Girl.' I might stick with it for a while."
"You still can't drive the car."
"Oh, come on!" I complained as I stamped my foot petulantly. Then I looked at the smoldering crater across the street as I heard the sound of sirens approaching. "Not that there's a car to drive, anyway," I muttered. "So now where to, boss?"
"I know a place."
I flew the two of us to the south side of the city to another run-down area on the outskirts of town. Given Prodigy's apparent fascination with these seedy locations, I had it pegged as a safe house. With Demetria's plan in imminent motion and with both of us now wanted by the law thanks to Promethean's lies, having a safe place to lie low and plan our next move was welcome.
We landed and Prodigy punched a code into a hidden panel in the building and the door slid open to reveal that it was reinforced steel and in a lot better condition than the outside would lead a casual observer to believe.
"Huh," I said as we walked inside. "It's funny, but that door kind of reminds me of your old gar—oh, my God."
My jaw dropped as I beheld the space, with its high ceilings and blacked-out windows, the cluttered shelves and work benches covered with various devices, the cobbled-together computer, and the hazardous chemicals (stored haphazardly). There was even a half-built copy of the car over on the lift.
"You have a backup garage?"
"Well, yeah," he said in a matter-of-fact manner. "That's why I work out of a cheap-ass garage in the slums rather than an expensive Batcave under stately Wayne manor. They're a hell of a lot easier to replace."
I looked around, incredulous. "God, it even smells the same. How many of these places do you have?"
"Not enough to make a habit out of blowing them up," he said as he moved over to the computer and sat down. He brushed some dust off the keyboard and watched as it started to boot up.
I shook my head in disbelief and wandered over to where he was sitting. "So what now?" I asked.
He swiveled around in his chair. "'What now' is you tell me absolutely everything."
So I told him. Everything from that first night with our fight with Killdozer and Killbane, Harridan's involvement, anything strange I'd noticed about Trixie (I hadn't—I was still reeling from that revelation), my meeting with Demetria at the Sanctuary, everything. I breezed over the details of my encounter with Promethean and I carefully omitted Caleb's assistance. He didn't challenge me, although he did seem suspicious that I was able to do so much on my own.
He nodded slowly. "Okay, that fits. The only thing I don't get is how Demetria knew you'd been searching for information on the transmitters those two idiot villains tried to steal."
I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't looking forward to this part. "I, uh, might have used your computer to look up the information," I said. He looked like he was about to object, but I pressed on, saying, "...and she may have found out because I used this to do it."
I put the thumb drive she'd given me on the desk next to the computer keyboard and he scowled at me.
"Um, I think it's a—"
"I know damn well what it is," he snapped. "So it's safe to assume that they now know everything we know. Good job."
Normally I'd have been cowed by his sarcastic rebuke, but I'd had about enough of his attitude and lies. "You know what this is because you're the one who made it, aren't you?" I shot back. Then when he didn't respond I knew I was right. "So, what, you lost that in the divorce?"
His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, like he was sizing me up and seeing something unexpected. "Touché," he conceded. "So we've both been keeping secrets, is that your point?"
"My point is I'm telling you all this because I want you to trust me, and this only works if we work together. Once this is done you can kick my butt to the curb and go back to being a solo act if you want, but right now we need each other."
"How do you figure that?"
I gestured helplessly to the computer screen. "You're the only one who can figure out what Demetria is up to so we have a chance of stopping her."
"True. And what are you bringing to this shindig?" he asked.
"I'm the one who can get us access to Demetria's Sanctuary."
He scoffed at that. "And how do you intend to do th—no," he said firmly. "Absolutely not."
"We can trust her. She can help us."
"Just so I'm clear we're talking about the same person, you're referring to the individual who led Demetria straight to our doorstep?"
"Look at what Demetria did to her! She has every reason in the world to help us now."
He ran his fingers through his shock-white hair. "So your argument is that because Demetria brainwashed her, she's the ideal person to help us against Demetria. Yeah, I don't see any flaw in that logic."
I sighed heavily. "Look. We need her. We can't get in without her help. I know you don't trust her, but I'm asking you to trust me."
He stared at me for a long moment. Finally he shook his head and said, "Oh, what the hell," as he went back to work on the computer and pulled up the transmitter schematics. "We've already been blown up once today, may as well be sporting about it and give them another shot."
* * * * *
I landed on Astral Bridge and peeked over the edge, at first not even sure that my hunch had been correct. But as the wind picked up I saw a familiar flash of platinum blonde hair blowing in the breeze. I quietly flew underneath the bridge and sat on the supporting girder with my legs dangling over the side.
Trixie didn't even look up. She was slumped over slightly as she stared down at nothing in particular. Her hands were down by her sides, resting on the beam as her fingers scratched absently at the metal. After a minute she took a sidelong glance at me.
"Guess I need to find a better place to hide, huh?" she asked.
"I took a chance and hoped you weren't hiding from everyone equally," I said with a faint smile.
She shook her head and sighed but before she could say anything, I rushed out, "Look, I won't pretend to understand what she did to you, but I know you. And Trixie, believe me—"
"It's Ren," she interrupted. "That's my name. Short for Renata. Renata...Blackwood," she said as her eyes cut over to gauge my reaction.
"Blackwood?" I whispered, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. "As in Rhiannon Blackwood?"
"She's my mother."
I stared at her, struck speechless. Rhiannon Blackwood was a dark sorceress and was one of the first archvillains to really earn the title. She was vicious, cruel, capricious, and insanely powerful. One time she captured the Liberty Squadron and held them prisoner for the better part of a week and after they escaped the normally overconfident and gregarious heroes returned with haunted expressions and they all refused to talk about what had happened.
Trixie obviously read the shock on my face and turned away, so I tried to shake it off.
"I, uh, didn't realize she had children," I said.
She smiled ruefully. "Oh, yes. Several over the years. From when we were old enough to walk she ensured that we were all trained in the dark arts, learning enchantment, thaumaturgy, demonology. So I guess you could say I'm home schooled," she said with a mirthless smirk. "Of course she didn't tell us the reason she went to all that trouble was so that when we came of age with our powers, she could sacrifice us to the dark gods to steal our life energy and magic to increase her own."
She turned to look me in the eyes. "She raised us like cattle to be slaughtered."
"Oh, my God."
"She would have killed me, too, except one of her servants took pity on me and helped me escape. I was only ten years old when I found myself alone on the streets of London. The things I did to survive...they weren't pretty. And believe me, I was not a nice person. Mum would have been so proud of her little girl."
"Trixie, you were just a kid, you didn't have—"
"I've done awful things," she said with a faraway glance. "And not just to survive. When I think of the people I tormented...I changed..."
"Don't do this to yourself! It's not your fault. You're not that person," I said, hoping I sounded more certain than I felt.
"Well," she said with a sad smile, "now you know why I kept trying to tell you the fairytale versions of my story. Tell me, which do you like better?"
I reached out and put my hand on top of hers. "Trixie, I'm so sorry."
"I found some videos of me from...before," she said quietly. "I kind of remember them, but it's all fuzzy. I remember feeling angry all the time, but now...it just doesn't seem important." She turned to look at me. "Peej, I don't know what's real anymore. I'm furious about what she did to me, but the worst part is I don't even know if it was such a bad thing."
I had no idea what to say.
"You know the thing that pisses me off, though? I actually thought I was trying to redeem myself. Like that was even possible. I probably never even wanted redemption. I just went from being the monster my mother created into the thing that Demetria turned me into," she said with an emotional quaver in her voice.
"No," I said firmly as I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "No, I don't believe that. Trixie, I don't know the person you were. I never met her. But I do know you. And I swear we'll make Demetria pay for what she's done. But as sure as I know anything, I know this: I would trust you with my life."
She sniffled and her lip twitched into a faint smile as she choked back a sob. "Yeah, but we've established that you're pretty gullible," she laughed tremulously. "Seriously, you're kind of a crap judge of character," she joked as she started to cry.
I laughed and hugged her, holding onto her as she trembled silently. Finally she broke the hug and wiped her tears. "Ugh," she said as she dabbed at her eyes. "Someday you're going to have to tell me what makeup you use. I swear I've never seen it run once."
"Haha, yeah," I laughed nervously. Since my 'makeup' was just my skin pigmentation that I'd changed with my shapeshifting power, I figured that might open up a whole can of worms I wasn't prepared to deal with at the moment.
"I'm not sure I even know how to be a hero," she admitted quietly.
"Sure you do. Being a hero is about fighting the battles that ordinary people can't. Standing up for them and protecting them when nobody else will. I've watched how you put your life on the line for other people lots of times. And I've never seen you back down from a fight."
"I'm not a hundred percent sure that's a good thing," she said dryly before holding out her hands helplessly. "I don't know what I'm doing or who I'm supposed to be or if this is even the real me. It's like—"
"It's like you're wearing a mask on top of a mask. And you're so confused by who you're supposed to be that you're not even sure who you are, anymore. And you're worried that if you don't even know that much, then how can you ever be close to anybody else?"
She blinked in surprise. "...Yeah," she whispered as she looked at me strangely before she blinked it away. "So you know anybody in the market for a girlfriend like that?"
"They're out there," I told her as I gazed at her earnestly. Then, when she looked away in disbelief, I straightened up. "Well. I don't see how we can be friends anymore. I thought I was teaming up with some awesome and dynamic superheroine, not one who's all mopey."
"I am not mopey," she objected. Her lip twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a smile and she leaned over and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. "You're a good friend," she told me.
I just gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded nervously. I felt like I should have said something, but I was still reeling from the fact I'd just gotten my first real kiss from a girl, an experience that was undercut somewhat by the fact that I could feel our boobs touch when she leaned in. Life was really confusing.
She obviously noticed the emotion cross my face. "I didn't just make it weird, did I?"
"What? No!" I objected, a bit too forcefully. "Nope. Nooo..." I repeated awkwardly.
"Gods," she muttered. "Look, Peej, I know we all try to act like this thing with you is a big secret, and if you don't want to talk about it, I understand. Believe me, I know it isn't easy trying to pretend to be someone you're not—"
I looked at her in alarm and then down at myself and then back at her. "Wait, y-you mean, you knew about me? And who's 'we?' You mean other people know, too?"
"Well, Mari, for one. But c'mon, give me a little credit. You were hardly subtle."
I glanced down at my bosom that was on prominent display. "I guess not," I conceded. "God, I can't believe you let me go on like this and never said anything!"
"I figured you'd say something when you were ready."
I fiddled with the edge of my cape, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about my feminine impersonation and what she must think of me. "It's just...I never really wanted all this..."
"Peej, you're acting like it's a death sentence. There's worse things than being gay."
"Well, that's true," I nodded. "I—whuh?"
Trixie shook her head and smiled. "I mean, it was pretty obvious the way you were always checking me and Mari out, to say nothing of all the other girls. I never really had any doubt. No offense, but you're as blatant about it as a guy."
"Ha! Yeah, I guess I should be more careful," I laughed nervously.
She glanced over at me knowingly. "Let me guess, you were hoping it was just a phase?"
I made a little noncommittal shrug. "I didn't really expect it to go as far as it has."
She laughed once. "Yeah, well, as deep dark secrets go, that one's pretty tame compared to mine," she said. Then she snapped her fingers as something else seemed to occur to her. "Oh, right, I might be a supervillain ready to pop at any second. There's yet another attractive quality of mine."
I gave her a lopsided grin. "Trixie, you know sign language. How evil can you possibly be?"
"I'm pretty sure that's not how that works."
I nodded towards the gleaming skyline of the city and gave her a little nudge. "You feel like going to work? Prodigy is spoiling for a rematch and we can't do this without you."
She sniffed again and nodded. "Oh, yeah," she said, her voice still raw. "I may not be who I was, but I'm still game to deliver a world of hurt to that witch."
The dark expression that crossed over her features sent a shiver down my spine, but I tried not to let it show. "Yeah, well, first we need a way in to get to her."
Trixie mulled that over for a moment and then gave me a cocky little smirk. "I've got a really great idea," she told me.
* * * * *
"This is a terrible idea."
"No, it's not. Just stay positive," Trixie chided me over the communicator as I observed her standing on the end of the pier by the waterfront. The area used to be used for cargo ships and was later shut down when a developer bought out the space to build luxury high-rise apartments, but when the developer went bankrupt, the area went to seed. "Are you in position?"
"Yes. Are you sure about this?" I asked nervously.
"Trust me, she can take it. Don't hold anything back."
"I'm more worried about you," I replied. "If Harridan takes the bait, it's just going to be the two of you. I won't be able to help you."
Trixie didn't say anything but just quietly looked out across the water as the wind whipped through her cape and hair.
"It's been nearly an hour already, maybe she's not coming," I said. "We should get with Prodigy and—"
"Don't be such an old woman!" she chided me. "Now be quiet, quit worrying and stay sharp. When it happens, it's going to happen fast."
I hated this plan. We knew that Harridan was obviously still working for Demetria despite the fact that Demetria had made a big show of expelling the warrior woman from the Sanctuary weeks earlier after publicly chastising her for her increasingly violent methods. So Trixie figured that since Harridan hadn't been seen in the Sanctuary since that time and there was only one way in, Demetria must have given her some kind of cloaking device or other back door method to continue to sneak in undetected. So the plan was to ambush Harridan, beat her to within an inch of her life and force her to tell us how to get in.
Truth be told, I was kind of looking forward to that part. Though I wished we had more firepower.
My real problem was with Trixie using herself as bait. Demetria and Harridan knew that Trixie was now aware of her reconditioning, but she'd left before Demetria unveiled the full scope of her plan. As a result, they had no reason to suspect that she might interfere with their plans, at least not until it was too late. However, 45 minutes ago Trixie had attempted to contact Bhramari to set up a face-to-face meeting and she used an unsecured comm line through the Sanctuary board to do it. We'd figured that Demetria wouldn't take the chance that Trixie might tell others what had been done to her, and she'd doubtless send her chief enforcer to take care of it. Or so went the theory.
Without warning, a bright red flash appeared just a few feet away from where Trixie was standing and a familiar shape emerged.
"Harridan!" Trixie gasped over the open comm channel.
"I told her you were going to be trouble," the woman said as she unsheathed her sword and it flickered dangerously with the crimson energy that licked up and down the blade. "She told me not to kill you, but..." she shrugged.
"Wait!" Trixie said. "I knew you'd show up. That's why I used the unsecured line. I want to work with you."
That was my cue.
I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation over the sound of the wind rushing in my ears as I vectored straight down into a power dive from where I'd stationed myself several hundred feet above. I accelerated to my top speed as gravity pulled me down even faster and I tore straight at Harridan with enough force to smash through a reinforced bunker. The wind whipped at my face and tears streaked my vision as I strained to stay on target. I knew we were only going to get one shot at this.
And that's when Harridan teleported away.
Too late to pull out of my dive, I felt a surge of panic rush through me as I realized I was going to miss, and miss big.
That realization was followed by the most disorienting ten seconds of my entire life.
Trixie instantly recognized what had happened and quickly opened up a portal on the ground where Harridan had just been standing, and instead of impacting the pier I sailed right on through. Before I realized what was happening, I saw that I'd come out the other side and was back on target to hit Harridan, except now I was racing towards her from the side. Then Harridan teleported again. Then Trixie portaled me again. Trixie had chosen our ambush location well, since being on the waterfront limited the number of directions that Harridan could use to escape. Meanwhile I had literally no idea what was going on as the two of them got into a frantic teleport war...sometimes I was going down, sometimes sideways, sometimes at an angle. All I knew was that I had to keep going as fast as I could for as long as I could. Finally I saw Harridan stopped right in front of me as she activated her energy shield, obviously ready to try and deflect my attack. But another blink later I found myself aimed at her unprotected back.
I slammed into her hard enough to send us both flying into the side of one of the unfinished buildings, and we rammed into it with the concussive force of a bomb exploding. Astonishingly it looked like Harridan was still conscious after my initial hit but after we plowed through a few concrete walls she slumped down unconscious as I came skidding to a halt on top of her and landed in a disheveled heap.
"Peej! Are you okay?" Trixie yelled as she ran into the building after us. I was too stunned and disoriented to say anything, but I gave her a thumbs-up which I think actually might have been sideways.
She gave me a self-satisfied little grin. "So, what are we going to name that maneuver?" she asked brightly. "I'm thinking 'Teleport Tag.' What do you think?"
Still in a dazed stupor I clumsily waved my hand dismissively in an effort to communicate the idea that giving it a name suggested we'd be doing it again, a notion I wasn't entirely in favor of. Then I leaned over and barfed onto the ground, which I think made my point fairly eloquently.
"Everyone's a critic."
While I was bent over and trying to avoid getting puke in my hair—in as heroic a manner as possible, of course—Trixie headed over to examine Harridan's unconscious form. After a minute she straightened up and examined something shiny in her hand. "Oh, verrry clever," she purred. Then as I staggered to my feet she turned to look at me and smiled. "Hey, I think I just found our way in."
Trixie and I made our way back to Prodigy's garage and as we arrived she did an amusing little double-take when she realized that she had walked into a nearly exact copy of the old garage. Prodigy, still at the computer, glanced over his shoulder at us and gave Trixie a dirty look.
"Do me a favor and this time try not to invite anyone over who wants to kill us," he told her.
"My faux pas," she responded.
I walked over to where he was sitting. "I got her up to speed and we think we have a way in to the Sanctuary. How are things looking here?"
He squared his shoulders confidently and nodded in a self-assured manner. "We're pretty much fucked."
He turned back to the computer and pulled up a map of Faraday City that was covered with little red dots, each of which was surrounded by a circle. The circles overlapped to blanket the entire city.
"I'm guessing those aren't cell phone towers," I said.
"You're not far wrong, kid," Prodigy said. "They're broadcast devices. Demetria is taking her 'reconditioning' city-wide. She's going to affect every person in the city at once."
I looked at him in alarm. "Meaning that some people are going to go bat-shit crazy like Killdozer did?"
"Oh, it's so much worse than that," he said as he pulled up a schematic. "Look at these readings."
I stared at the screen. It was a complicated set of graphs and numbers.
"Mmm," I intoned as I nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Though, uh, maybe you should explain it for Trixie," I suggested.
He rolled his eyes. "Look. When the Turning Point hit, people for a hundred miles were exposed to mutagenic radiation that affected their DNA. Most of them will live long and happy lives and never realize it, and they'll just quietly pass it on to their kids. But if the metagene gets activated..."
"Super powers," I whispered.
"If they're lucky and it doesn't kill them outright. But, yes."
Trixie looked gravely at Prodigy. "You're saying her device is going to activate the metagene of every person in the city?"
"Yeah, and between that and the fact that some of them are going to go psychotic from the experience, you're looking at a catastrophe that'll make the Turning Point look like a sorority house pillow fight."
I knew he wasn't exaggerating. The day of the Turning Point, dozens of metahumans ascended simultaneously and it nearly destroyed the city as they struggled to control their new powers. Many didn't survive the experience, and the results were often explosive. Since that time the number of metahumans had grown dramatically as latent powers became active, but it had happened over time and these days Faraday City had a quarter of a million people living in it. But this time we weren't talking about dozens of people struggling with their powers, it would be most of the population, all at once. It wouldn't matter if the brainwashing worked or not, the number of accidental deaths would be in the tens of thousands. Or worse.
Trixie shook her head. "We have to warn Demetria. She's not insane, she—"
"She's counting on this," I said as I made eye contact with Prodigy. "She said she's building Utopia, remember? In one move she gets a quarter of a million new superheroes, all reconditioned to fight for truth and justice."
Trixie was horrified. "But it'll be chaos when all their powers activate all at once! And you said some of them become psychotic—"
"A whole lot of people are gonna die," I said.
"Mortar in the building blocks of her Utopia," Prodigy muttered.
Trixie looked at the map. "So, we have to destroy those transmitters, right?"
Prodigy nodded again. "Yeah, that'd be the 'we're fucked' part. They're broadcasting from warp space, probably from that Sanctuary of hers."
"Can we block the signal somehow?"
He considered that. "Yeah, maybe. But I'd need the modulation waveform information, and we can't get that from out here."
"Okay, so back to Plan A," I said. "We sneak in and get the...modu-wave thingy."
Trixie's eyes darted around as something seemed to occur to her. "Ohhh, that's not good. Demetria called for an all-hands gathering today. Everybody is going to be there. That's dozens of supers who all think that she walks on water."
"Fabulous," Prodigy said. "Bet you're gonna be sorry you missed seeing that," he said to me.
I looked at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about? I'm going with you."
He pointed at the computer. "Someone has to stay here and run the program to block the signal from out here. And unless you've got a Doctorate in Applied Physics stuffed into your bra, I'm guessing I'm the only one of us who knows what that 'wave thingy' is, so I have to go. And I need her to find my way around in there. So you're the lucky winner on computer duty."
"Can't you trigger it remotely?"
"Yeah, sure. My old computer setup could do it easily," he said. Then he snapped his fingers. "Oh, wait. That's the equipment that got reduced to its component molecules earlier today," he said sarcastically. "We have to make do with what I've got here."
"You're going to need me with you if things get ugly in there," I said.
"I would have said when things get ugly, but this is the team we got."
I thought quietly for a moment. "If you think I can run this computer program, it must be pretty easy to use, right?"
"Yes, even a complete idiot should be able to manage it, so you're qualified."
I nodded slowly. "I think maybe I have another solution," I said as I gave him a significant look.
He furrowed his brow for a moment before his eyes snapped wide in realization. "NO," he said emphatically. "Absolutely not. Abso-fucking-lutely n—"
* * * * *
"Can I open my eyes yet?" Caleb asked excitedly as I guided him into Prodigy's garage. At first when I'd gone to see him I was worried he wouldn't even want to speak to me, but he could never hold a grudge, even after that one time that we got into a heated argument over who would win in a fight, Robocop or the Terminator, and I may have said some impolitic things about where he could cram his Skynet. Anyway, after I apologized he was only too happy to help, especially when I informed him that I was about to make his greatest dream come true. ("Help save the city?" "Check." "Cute superheroines?" "Well...me and Trixie." "It's a start. I'm in.")
Now, Prodigy looked like he was about to have a brain aneurysm as I guided Caleb into his supposedly secret hideout.
"Caleb, for the last time, I told you, you don't have to close your eyes. Seriously, don't get your hopes up, it's not that impressive."
"C'mon, it's my first lair!"
I shook my head as Trixie and Prodigy stared at us incredulously. "Okay, we're here. Have a party."
Caleb opened his eyes and beheld the cluttered garage. "Huh," he said.
"And there it is," I said flatly as I spread my hands in a flourish.
He turned around, taking in the place. "Huh," he repeated.
I shrugged apologetically to the others for the delay as I turned to Caleb. "See, it's like I told you, it's really not all that—"
"This place is awesome!" Caleb cried.
"Huh?" I said.
He ran over to a workbench and started poring over the gadgets.
"Put that down!" Prodigy snapped.
"Holy cow, is this a bionic incubator?" Caleb said breathlessly. Then he ran to one of the racks that was piled with junk. "And this! Tell me this isn't one of Tectonica's pocket seismographs! Oh, my God, is that one of Keepsake's totem figurines? In mint condition?"
Prodigy turned to look at me. "I like him better than I like you," he said.
"That's not saying much."
"It really isn't."
*ZANNNG*!!
A bolt of silver-blue energy sizzled through the air dangerously close to where Trixie was standing. Stunned, we all turned to look at the source of the blast to see Caleb standing stock still as he delicately held an irregular-looking metallic object.
"Oops," he said.
"This is why I work alone," Prodigy growled. "All right, show and tell is over," he said as he snatched the device out of Caleb's hands. "Look with your eyes, not with your hands," he warned. "Or better yet, don't even do that."
Chagrined, Caleb made his way closer to where I was standing and spotted Trixie. He rushed over to introduce himself.
"Charmed, pretty lady," he said, taking her hand in a genteel gesture.
"Oh, Lord," I muttered. Trixie just seemed amused.
"My name's Caleb. I manage PG's online presence," he said to her. "Oh, crap, I shouldn't have said that. I should have used a code name. I-I mean, hi, my name is...uh..."
"Flamebait?" I deadpanned.
"Hey, that's not bad," he said.
"Thanks."
"Kind of funny you just pulled that off the top of your head, considering when you needed a code name you couldn't even—"
"Uh huh, irony is hilarious. Can we move this along? Countless lives at stake and all?"
"Right this way, nincompoop," Prodigy said as he yanked Caleb over to the computer. I thought Caleb was going to plotz at the notion of having access to the machine, and apparently Prodigy noticed it, too. "Ah ah ah! No touchy-touchy!" he said as he grabbed Caleb by the shoulders and pushed him down into the chair. "Okay, here's what I need from you. First Rule: Don't touch anything. Conveniently, that's also Rules 2 through 99. Got it?"
"Y'know, PG warned me you were a charmer, but you're just electric in person, aren't you?" Caleb said.
Prodigy gave him a deadly look, and Caleb's jokey attitude vanished. Having been on the receiving end of that glare, I felt sympathetic.
"Listen, harebrain," Prodigy growled in as gravelly a voice as I'd ever heard him use, "the only reason you're here is because we didn't have time to run to the pet store and train a monkey to do this job. All you have to do is listen in on this communicator, and when I give the word—and only when I give the word—you punch in the code I give you and push this button," he said as he pointed to the computer. "Your ass does not leave this chair until I get back, comprende?"
"What if I have to use the bathroom?"
Prodigy maintained the intensity of his glare while his eyes widened just the teeeeensiest bit.
Caleb nodded nervously. "I'll hold it," he decided.
Trixie sidled up beside me and commented, "I know I really shouldn't talk considering that my mentor brainwashed me and is threatening to destroy the city, but I definitely think you could do a lot better than this guy."
Prodigy approached us. "So, what's your big plan for sneaking inside this 'Sanctuary?' Demetria is going to have her entire force in there, so this had better be good."
"Oh it is," Trixie said. A wicked grin spread across on her face as she presented the glittering crystal pendant she'd recovered from Harridan. "Tell me, Prodigy. Are you familiar with the curse of Venus Castina?"
* * * * *
"This is a terrible idea," Prodigy said.
"No, it's not. Just stay positive," I said as Trixie gave me a knowing little look for stealing her line.
"Glamour and misdirection. It worked for Harridan," Trixie said. "I never had any idea. Besides, the Sanctuary is going to be packed with people and we need to sneak in unnoticed."
"Trixie and I should be able to just walk right in," I said. "We were both welcome there, but Demetria thinks you and I died in the explosion and that Harridan dealt with Trixie. So she would have no reason to go out of her way to tell people that she and I aren't on the guest list anymore. So we just walk in alongside Trixie here and we're part of the club."
"You mean the fucking Girl Scouts," Prodigy grumped as Trixie, Caleb and I all smirked at each other. The Morphex crystal had done a number on my mentor, who now appeared to be a pretty blonde teenage heroine dressed in a skimpy bubblegum pink leather costume with baby blue highlights. He was short and cute and looked more like a skanky teen girl who was all set to go to a rave rather than an actual heroine to be taken seriously. I had to admit it must have been the perfect cover for Harridan, as absolutely no one would have expected the hardened and aggressive warrior woman to be hidden in such a perky and diminutive package. Much less my aging and prickly mentor.
He plucked disconsolately at the leather outfit. "I look like Tactical Barbie," he grumbled.
Even his voice was cute and bubbly. I couldn't stop grinning. "You so seldom see a hero costume done in pastels, but you really pull it off," I teased.
He shot me a dark look and pressed his lips together into the most adorable pout as he wrinkled his nose like a little bunny. "Don't you dare fucking enjoy this," he warned.
"I could just eat you up with a spoon," Trixie said with a leer.
I arched an eyebrow and looked down at him, enjoying the fact that I was taller than him for once. "You'd best watch your language, young lady," I said, doing a fair approximation of a mom voice.
Prodigy squared his petite shoulders and was obviously just about to tell me off. However, as he took a deep breath to do so the top buckle on the front of his bustier popped loose.
"Eep!" he exclaimed in a perky little chirp as he madly fumbled with the clasp to avoid exposing himself.
I turned to look at Caleb. "There, you see? That's why a bustier on a costume is a bad idea," I told him.
"I still think the belt is cool," he muttered.
Caleb then wheeled his chair over next to us and said to Trixie, "Hey, if we survive this, can I borrow that crystal doohickey?"
Trixie looked puzzled. "Why on earth would you want—"
"He wants to use it to sneak into the girls' locker room," Prodigy said.
We all turned to look at him.
"What? I'm old, I'm not dead."
I gave a slight shrug as I made eye contact with Trixie. "Well, the day's not over yet."
Before he could reply, she opened up her warp space portal to access the walk-in closet 'waiting room' that connected to the Sanctuary. "We need to get moving. I've no idea how long this transformation lasts and I'd rather not have it wear off at an inopportune moment."
"Good luck, girls!" Caleb called after us with a huge grin. Both Prodigy and I gave him a look, and Trixie, perhaps unconsciously sensing that she was the only genuine female on the team made a queer little face at the remark.
We filed into the small room and the portal closed behind us, quickly replaced by a new portal as Trixie entered the second code. We then stepped through it and I couldn't help but pause for a moment to admire the stunning vista in front of us and the entrance to the garden. I had to admit it was still quite breathtaking.
"Unbelievable," Prodigy whispered, taking in the scene.
"I know, right? It's incredible how they—"
"Would you fucking look at this place? Unparalleled access to the greatest technology the world has ever known and they build a goddamn lawn. Those stupid hippies are probably growing hemp."
"Oh, for—"
"Ladies, welcome back," a woman's voice came. I turned and saw a tall tough-looking heroine with taut muscles and a challenging demeanor flanked by two other equally imposing women. The one who spoke had her hands on her hips and as she looked me up and down I noticed the fingers of her right hand twitch just slightly within quick reach of the lethal-looking blaster slung on her hip.
Trixie quickly stepped forward. "Calamity! It sure is busy here today, huh? Lots of people," she volunteered conversationally as she noted the traffic coming in from the adjoining entrance portals. But when the other woman didn't respond, Trixie smiled politely and continued. "I don't think you met Prodigious Girl the last time she was here. She's a friend."
"Is that right."
I nodded. "Yep, Demetria showed me around and invited me back. Loved the garden. Big fan." She continued to stare at me challengingly, so I took a half-step forward. "You like gardening? You look like you've done some hoeing in your time."
I held my breath as I maintained my gaze, mentally playing out how this fight could go. None of the scenarios I worked out in my head ended particularly well for us.
Calamity chuckled. "Well, you've got more spirit than most of the bleach blonde bims that come through here. Oh, howdy, Candy Scrapper! Didn't see you there," she said as she smirked at Prodigy.
Trixie and I nervously cut our eyes over at each other as I quietly prayed that Prodigy would have the good sense to stay in character and not—
"Blow me, Sasquatch," Prodigy shot back in his cute little voice.
Calamity laughed out loud. "God, you always crack me up, princess. You kids move on, we need to keep this area clear."
I quietly breathed a sigh of relief as Trixie led us down one of the paths. "That was a really good idea to answer her the way Harridan would have answered," I said to Prodigy.
He peered up at me through his blonde bangs. "What nonsense are you blathering about?" He snapped his fingers twice at Trixie. "Hey, Princess Di. Get me to a computer."
Trixie tensed up. The expression on her face told me her patience was wearing thin.
I shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. He gets cranky in the afternoons if he doesn't get his nap."
Trixie led us to the library and we found a little cubicle off in a quiet corner with a computer.
"So what now?" I said. "We search under 'E' for 'Evil Plans?'"
"I doubt they'd be that accommodating," Trixie said.
"Oh, I don't know about that," Prodigy said as he retrieved a device from his belt pouch. "They did offer us a key." He held up the thumb drive that Demetria had given me, the one I'd used to hack Prodigy's computer.
"Will that work?" I asked.
"With a little finesse." He turned to Trixie. "Hey, blondie. I need a few minutes. Stand guard and make sure we're not disturbed."
To hear my mentor's dictatorial sass coming out of the mouth of a cute blonde teenager bent my brain, and Trixie looked like she was about ready to smack some respect into him. But, as usual, he had a point. I made eye contact with her and through a complicated series of eyebrow movements tried to apologize for him and get her to back down. Eventually with a humph she stepped outside.
Ten minutes later, both Trixie and I were getting nervous as the place began to clear out and we started to look more conspicuous. As I looked helplessly at the screen I had no idea what Prodigy was doing and wondered if I'd even realize if he'd been successful, like if there would be some friendly beep from the computer or one of those big "ACCESS GRANTED" pop-ups that you always see in the movies. Finally I saw a map of the city pop up with the overlapping circles.
"Caleb, are you there?" I said on the I-Comm.
"I didn't touch anything!" he protested, a little too vehemently.
Prodigy shot me a warning look.
"Yeah, stand by. I think we've got the code for you."
Prodigy read out the number and made Caleb read it back twice. Then he looked at me apprehensively. "Now hit Enter."
"Got it," Caleb's voice came back.
Tense seconds ticked by. Then several more. The screen hadn't changed.
"Um, should that map look any different now?" I asked.
"What did you do?" Prodigy snarled into the communicator.
"I did what you told me!" Caleb exclaimed. "I punched in the code just like you said! I pushed Enter, just like you said! Monkey push button!"
Trixie poked her head back inside. "What's going on? Is it working?"
Prodigy didn't seem to be his usual belligerent self, and my eyes narrowed to slits as I looked at him. "Are you kidding me with this? Your invention didn't work?"
He held up a finger defensively. "If we had been using the equipment in my old garage, this would have worked!"
"Oh, my God," I moaned as I slumped to the side and buried my face in my hand.
Trixie leaned past me to examine the screen. "Wait. It's working. Look!"
Sure enough, the display had changed and the broadcast circles were now a bright yellow. Prodigy frantically typed on the keyboard and even before he said anything I knew it wasn't good news.
"They've started broadcasting," he said.
* * * * *
"How long do we have?" I said.
"I don't know," Prodigy replied as he typed madly on the computer. "I can't tell from here. Right now Demetria is psychically linking herself to everyone in the entire city. Once she's done with that, she'll start making changes, and then..." He didn't finish.
Trixie looked at the map. "Will it affect us here in the Sanctuary?"
"No, we're safe here in warp space. She's broadcasting from here, but we can't just pull the plug, either. Right now she's plugging into the minds of thousands of people. If we just shut it down while they're all connected, there's no knowing the amount of psychic damage that could be done."
"Can you shut it off from here?" I asked.
Prodigy shook his head. "It must be a standalone system. I can't even tell where it is. Enchantrix?"
Trixie shrugged helplessly. "It's just...secrecy is anathema to how she runs things here. People can go wherever they want. I've no idea where something like that would even be."
My eyes cut over to Prodigy. Even with his features hidden under a magical disguise, I could see not only his worry for our current situation but also how rattled he was that Demetria could be capable of doing something this horrific. For a moment his girlish countenance mixed with his ever-present scowl and I wondered what he and Demetria had been like when they were still young and full of hope and—
I gasped. "I know where it is," I said. "Her meditation garden. She said it was private and I saw a small building there. Maybe there's something underground."
"That's on the other side of the compound," Trixie said. "That's a long way to go without being noticed."
Just then the computer beeped and Prodigy turned to look at it. He hurriedly typed something and then forcibly yanked the thumb drive out of the computer.
"Do they know we're here?" I asked as I read the worry on his face.
"They know somebody's in here somewhere. We need to get moving. They're going to be searching the whole place for—" Right in the middle of his sentence his perky chipper voice cut down in to a much lower register. "—intruders," he finished in his normal male voice. A moment later the illusion of the blonde teenage heroine faded, leaving my gruff and aging mentor sitting there in her place. An elderly male hero who was going to be very very conspicuous among the superpowered young women that populated the Sanctuary.
We sat there for a moment just staring at each other, all of us trying to figure out how to get out of there and across the compound without drawing the attention of dozens of the superpowered warrior women who were actively hunting for us.
Trixie found her voice first. "You know, I would give real money to know what my horoscope said was going to happen to me today."
My eyes scanned around the library and I spotted a small private cubicle with a video screen and camera. "Hey," I said, prodding Trixie. "Can that thing get an outside line?"
"Sure, but—hey, where are you going?"
"I need to make a call. Wait here."
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later we were still hiding in the library and had moved from room to room as we tried to avoid being spotted by the search parties who were tearing the place apart. Since Trixie had a chance of blending in we sent her out to try and misdirect the searchers, but we counted three teams of two searching the place so she had her work cut out for her. Meanwhile, Prodigy and I hid in an office that overlooked the outside where we could see even more people searching.
After a few minutes of anxious waiting, the quiet made me uncomfortable. "So, any words of wisdom from your years of experience dealing with these kinds of situations?" I tried.
"Yeah. The bad guys have ears, so shut up or they'll find us."
I nodded.
We heard the sound of someone's hand on the doorknob and tensed up as it slowly turned and the door started to open. It was too slow and tentative to be Trixie since she knew we were in here. We knew we'd have to take out whoever it was quickly and quietly, but we had to wait for her to step all the way inside.
"Mari!" I said with relief, recognizing her as she entered. I waved Prodigy off and hurried over to her and closed the door. "Mari, we need to get to Demetria's meditation garden. She—"
She signed something frantically, and I struggled to follow it.
"How many? Where?" I said as I watched her response.
"What's she saying?" Prodigy whispered.
"I'm not getting all of it. Something about trackers or enhanced senses..."
She touched her nose repeatedly.
"Tracking us by scent," Prodigy said.
"Swell. Is it too late to cover our tracks with aromatherapy?"
The door opened quickly and Trixie ducked inside. "Good, you found them. They're almost here, I gotta risk 'porting us outside. Mari, try to cover for us."
A moment later we found ourselves in the bushes outside the library as we ducked down and watched a stream of people hurry past.
"This is ridiculous," Prodigy growled. "We should make a run for it. We're going to get caught out here."
"We can't. It's—" Trixie started, but then froze when two young heroines in capes wandered nearby. "It's too far," she whispered when they passed. "And there's almost certainly guards. If they spot us, they'll bring the whole place down on us."
I checked the time again. "Come on..." I muttered impatiently.
Trixie peered at me. "Who did you contact, anyway? The Liberty Squadron?"
Prodigy and I shared an uneasy glance. "We're not really on speaking terms with them at the moment," he said.
"Yeah, they hate us enough to ignore my call but not enough to get off their butts and come arrest us. That's an annoyingly specific level of hate."
Trixie looked puzzled. "Okay, so who did you call?"
Off in the distance we heard the unmistakable sounds of an intense combat break out from over by the entrance portals as distant explosions sounded and a variety of energy blasts scorched through the air. There was a lot of yelling and screaming and we watched everyone rush in that direction to repel the invaders. From off in that direction we saw a bunch of figures take to the skies above the tree line as a pitched battle broke out between the two forces.
Trixie was about to say something when from off in the distance one of the flying figures in powered armor gave the distinctive cry, "SUPERNOVA STRIKE!" as he let fly with a burst of razor-sharp energy flechettes.
"Blaze?" she said incredulously.
"He did say he knew a lot of people," I said as I watched the mass of supers in the battle under the protective dome of the Sanctuary. "I guess he wasn't kidding."
"What the heck did you say to get him to come here?"
Twenty minutes earlier, I'd glanced over my shoulder to make sure Prodigy and Trixie were out of earshot as I dialed up Blaze's contact information. I was dreading this and wasn't keen to have to do it in front of an audience. As I waited for the call to connect, half of me hoped he wouldn't pick up. But then I thought to myself, maybe he'd see reason.
I really do crack myself up sometimes.
His image popped up on the vidscreen. "Well, Tits, this is an unexpected surprise. Need help getting out of your bra?"
Don't do it. Don't do it. I told myself. "Blaze," I said through gritted teeth. "I'm in trouble. So's Trixie. We're pinned down and we need your help."
"Uh huh. I'm not an idiot, girl. I know there's a warrant out for your arrest."
I nodded. "Yep. Awesome. Come and get me. Bring lots of backup."
"Yeah, if your boobs were brains—"
"—I'd be a rocket scientist. Heard it. Look, Blaze, there's some crazy stuff going on to the people of the city, right?"
He looked uncertain. "...Yeah, so?"
"So, I'm at ground zero. I'm in a huge, um, armored stronghold filled with supers who are looking to take over the city. You can get to it through the warp gate portals. I'm sending you the coordinates now," I said as I typed into the computer.
He didn't say anything, so I decided to push it over the top. "Dude, this is the big score you've been dreaming about. Come in, kick ass, save the city. You said you know all those heroes and villains, just get them to come here and you can save the day."
Blaze made a slow smile. "Aww, you had me going for a minute there, Tits. You just want to me to bring the bad guys and vigilantes to you so you can corral them all in one place to get the collar and make yourself look good. Probably got your little girlfriends there to help you, don't you?" he taunted.
I gritted my teeth again and heard my knuckles crack as I squeezed my hands into tight fists. He wanted to do this the hard way? Fine. We'd do this the hard way.
"Okay, why don't you just sit this one out," I told him. "You can just stay home, do your nails and sing the sissy song, Nancy."
He froze and his mouth dropped open as though he wasn't sure if he'd heard me correctly. I couldn't see his eyes under the visor of his helmet but his head cocked just slightly to the side as he obviously started to make the connections in his brain, linking Chris, the high schooler and bosomy crossdresser who'd publicly humiliated him by making him sing the 'sissy song' with the equally bosomy but decidedly female Prodigious Girl he now faced.
"Patterson?" he whispered incredulously.
"Did I mention I have a video of your sissy performance? I love your singing voice, you should try out for glee club. I'm thinking about posting it online so everybody can enjoy it and see you for what you really are." Much to my eternal regret I didn't in fact have such a video, but of course he didn't know that. However I had no doubt that hitting him that hard in his big fat narcissistic ego could lead to only one possible outcome.
His face contorted into a grimace of absolute fiery loathing. "I'm gonna fucking annihilate you, you little fag."
"Yeah, well, you know where to find me. My advice? Bring plenty of backup. I did." Then I hung up.
Now, as Trixie stared at me in disbelief, I just nodded simply. "I just prevailed on his better nature," I told her.
There was the sound of another explosion in the distance.
"We should go," Trixie said.
"Good idea."
* * * * *
I carried Prodigy and Trixie and flew across the Sanctuary and kept as low a profile as possible by flying just above the tree line. Meanwhile Trixie stayed alert in case a quick teleport was needed, but by this point things were so chaotic that we apparently didn't warrant a second glance. To a casual observer Prodigy obviously didn't fit with the rank and file, but since I was holding on to him I supposed they thought he was my prisoner. Or, since we weren't shooting at anybody, we were just somebody else's problem.
We landed in the small courtyard still on our guard, but apart from the faint sounds of fighting in the distance it seemed as serene and peaceful as the last time I'd been there. I thought that was ironic since when Demetria had invited me here I'd been on my guard for an attack that never came, but somehow I didn't think I'd end up being so lucky a second time.
I motioned toward the small building. "This is it. I bet..."
My voice trailed off as I turned to face Prodigy, who had stopped and was staring at the life-size statue of Starbrite in the center of the fountain that was surrounded by the brilliant luminescent flowers that sparkled against the water.
My mouth moved mutely as I struggled to think of what to say, or even if I should say anything at all. "I-I'm sorry—" I started.
"Let's go," Prodigy said, all business.
We hadn't taken a half dozen steps before four of Demetria's charges entered the courtyard. Prodigy tensed up for a fight but I just turned to him and said, "You go. Enchantrix and I will hold them off for you."
"We will?" Trixie said.
Prodigy's eyes cut over at the group that was forming and then back at me and raised an eyebrow.
I leaned close. "That's Beatbox," I said quietly. "Class 2 sonic energy projector, vulnerable to energy attacks." When Prodigy gave me a surprised look, I gave him a wry smile. "You know, I have been reading those metahuman dossiers you gave me."
Prodigy nodded. "Right. Have fun, ladies," he said as he headed into the building.
As the group of supers moved closer, Trixie edged up to me to prevent them from flanking us.
"So, uh, you've got this, right? You know everybody's weaknesses?"
"Mostly," I nodded nervously, drawing a more intent look from her. "Well, I haven't read all of them," I hedged. "We'll be okay as long as we fight people from the beginning of the alphabet."
Just then, a hugely-muscled woman leapt in and hit the ground so hard that the earth shook.
"Surrender, Prodigious Girl, to the might of Zendarra!"
"Crap."
"On your left! On your left!" I cried as another bolt of crimson energy came sizzling through the air towards Trixie. She barely managed to get a portal up in time to redirect it before two more lethal blasts came streaking in.
Outnumbered five to two against these gals in the garden, we knew we were in trouble. We would have had a better chance of success if we could have led them on a running fight through the Sanctuary or towards the rest of the fighting, but unfortunately our primary goal was to block anyone from entering the building after Prodigy, so we found ourselves confined to the suddenly claustrophobic courtyard area as we executed a frenzy of feints and retreats.
On the plus side, between my flight and Trixie's teleportation we were able to keep them from boxing us in, and we were taking frantic advantage despite the fact that Trixie frequently had to use her portals to deflect attacks and I still needed to get close to hit anyone. However, our adversaries were young and relatively inexperienced, and although they'd clearly gotten some combat training from Demetria, they hadn't gotten as much live-fire experience as we had, which gave us some unique advantages. For instance, while they were smart enough to use coordinated attacks against us to try and fence us in, they hadn't fully intuited how much support Trixie was giving me...had they all simply focused on taking her down first, I would have been easy pickings. However, being inexperienced, the young heroes were especially vulnerable to psychological warfare.
And I, dear Reader, am a truly stupendous smartass.
So while good tactics might dictate that they focus on Enchantrix, my steady stream of taunts and jibes enraged them to the point that pretty much everybody was trying to get the shot that took me down. That wasn't particularly good news for me especially against those odds, but I could take a punch better than Trixie could.
I paused in mid-flight for just a moment to address our opponents. "I gotta say, you guys are so pretty! Well, not you, Zee, obviously, but the rest of you look good. I bet you have a day spa here, right? See, my cuticles are a mess from all this fighting, but you gals look so elegant and glam!"
I spun madly out of the way to avoid the sudden hail of attacks that came my way from the angry young heroines who were eager to prove they were tough and not to be underestimated. My time as Prodigious Girl had taught me how quickly people zeroed in solely on my appearance, so I figured this would be a sore spot with them, as well. Zendarra in particular took a swing that nearly took my head off.
"Whoa! Hey, Zee, don't take it so personally! I know a guy with laser vision, and I bet he could make short work of that mustache. Ha ha—OOF!"
Her punch connected that time and sent me sailing into a fire blast from her comrade, and I tried not to cry out as pain lanced through my side. My completely undeserved bluster notwithstanding, Zendarra was unfortunately proving to be quite the bruiser who shrugged off many of my best shots.
But then out of the blue I recalled a lesson from my childhood. Apparently when I was a tot I had a tendency to play rough with my toys, so one Christmas my parents had the bright idea to buy me really durable toys like metal Tonka trucks and Fisher Price toys that were made of seemingly indestructible plastic. But after only a few minutes of play, I discovered something: unbreakable toys are useful for breaking other toys.
"Taxi!" I yelled as I grabbed Zendarra and launched her with all my might at the building. It seemed to be solidly built and if my plan didn't work I figured it might at least make an impression. Zendarra, seeing where I'd aimed her, managed to twist herself around to try and punch through the wall fists first, but fortunately Trixie was equally quick and portaled the speeding heroine twenty feet to the side and caused her to ram full-speed into a heroine with an energy rifle who'd been giving Trixie some trouble.
"You guys are the worst!" I laughed, noting with satisfaction that the gal with the rifle seemed to be staying down.
One by one, we whittled them down and while I hated to admit it, my (admittedly spotty) knowledge of their weaknesses was extraordinarily helpful...for instance, Electro Lass didn't last long once we'd dunked her in the fountain, shorting her out and stunning her into unconsciousness. (Plus she looked like she was dressed like a stripper, which was just idiotic. Who fights like that?) And through our frantic improvisations Trixie and I even learned some new uses for our powers. At first I was focused on knocking out our foes, but I quickly learned that a bit of flight and a strong heave-ho could toss the ones without movement powers a goodly distance, and if they weren't knocked unconscious from the landing it got them out of our hair for a while. Meanwhile, Trixie had discovered that if she fired one of her energy blasts into one of her portals she could tag someone from any direction she wanted, which made quick work of one of our opponents who was susceptible to such attacks.
I hovered over the fountain to catch my breath and raised Trixie on my I-Comm.
"Mercuria is starting to piss me off," I said. She was super-fast and agile and nearly impossible to hit. "Any thoughts?"
"She seems really fast...on the ground."
"Ha. Bait and Switch. Got it."
I landed on the ground and a split second later Mercuria was on me, hitting me dozens of times before I could land even one punch. But she was so focused on me that she didn't notice Trixie's portal at our feet until it was too late.
The next thing we knew we were a hundred feet above the garden in free fall. Or at least she was. Gravity had her in a nice predictable vector straight down, which gave me an easy target and I flew up and tagged her with an impressive kick that sent her sailing towards some distant trees. She wasn't going to be walking that off anytime soon.
"Nice kick. Did she bounce off the dome?" Trixie wondered.
"Nah. That one's not gonna have the distance."
Our final foe—numerically and alphabetically—was Zendarra. By that point both Trixie and I were exhausted so I threw Zee across the courtyard to buy us a few seconds and flew up next to my haggard-looking teammate.
I gasped for breath and looked over at Trixie. "Can't you...I dunno...?" I waggled my fingers vaguely in an approximation of casting a spell.
"What do you think I've been doing?" she groaned. "Can't you...?" She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out as she bopped her fist against the side of her head.
"Crap, here she comes again," I said as I braced for the impact.
"Try and hold her!" Trixie called just before Zendarra plowed into my midsection and tried to tackle me. I managed to stay upright by using my flight to get leverage and sneaked around her as she overextended herself on a punch. It made me feel a little better to know that she was getting tired, too, and I was able to get her into an improvised hold as she struggled to break free.
"Now what?" I yelled.
I got my answer as another of Trixie's portals opened up at our feet and we fell right in. I was a bit disoriented since we came out sideways and for a moment almost used my flight to stay aloft before we splashed down into the fountain with me on top of Zendarra, who was submerged underwater.
"Oh, I get it," I said as Zendarra struggled under the water. The splashing wasn't helping at all, and she managed to kick me in a tender spot but I managed to hold on to her like I was wrestling with a slippery, feisty, thrashing...I don't know, dolphin, I guess. A problem dolphin with anger management problems that didn't get enough love in its childhood. Who could also bench press a truck.
Zendarra stopped struggling and for a minute I thought I had her before she managed to slip an arm free and she roughly elbowed me in the boob. She didn't have much fight in her by that point but it stung enough that she managed to slip loose and toss me off.
Bleary-eyed, I saw her stagger to her feet before Trixie blasted her. And then blasted her again. And then I saw a large boulder that had been on the far side of the courtyard appear through a portal fifty feet above her and come smashing down on her head. Zendarra collapsed in a heap and Trixie blasted her once again for good measure.
"I think you got her," I groaned as I clambered to my feet and out of the fountain.
We both looked uncertainly around the quiet courtyard and carefully counted the number of unconscious bodies.
"We did it!" Trixie cried.
We had started to move towards each other when I noticed something in the sky behind her. It was coming up fast, and as it roared closer I heard an all-too-familiar high-pitched whine build up to a critical pitch.
"GET DOWN!" I screamed as I shoved her away.
The words were barely out of my mouth when the entire courtyard was covered with a deadly rain of energy flechettes that cut down everything in their path. I cried out as they lacerated my skin, cutting mercilessly. But as I recovered my first thought was of Trixie and I saw her lying face-down on the other side of the courtyard, unmoving. From the blast pattern on the ground it looked like I had been at the center of the attack, but she wasn't invulnerable like I was.
"Trixie—!"
"You've got problems of your own, Patterson," Quasarblaze sneered as he landed between me and her. He was wearing some new armored suit that was much more heavily armed than I'd seen him wear before. He looked me up and down and even through his full-coverage helmet I was sure he was leering at me since I was still dripping wet from my fight in the fountain.
"So you won your first wet T-shirt contest as a girl. You must be proud, Tits."
"You usually announce that attack before you fire it off," I retorted as I winced at the painful cuts.
"I figured you wouldn't mind since we're old friends." He made a gesture with his hand and before I could react he launched a fight of mini-rockets at me and I was sent flying as they slammed me with their concussive force.
My head was spinning, but I cried out to him as I found my bearings. "Blaze! There's no need to fight, we're on the same side!"
"Same side," he sneered as he fired off a laser blast that I barely managed to dodge at the last second. "What side is that, the top-heavy tranny bimbo side?" he said with a taunt as he tagged me with a particle beam that painfully singed my bicep. "I don't know how the fuck that's you in there, Patterson, but you humiliated me in front of everybody, and now I'm going to return the fav—OOF!"
I slammed into him full-speed and we hit the base of the fountain hard enough to shatter the stone basin. I followed up with a couple of vicious body blows that dented his armor but didn't have nearly as much effect as I'd hoped. Any hope that I could just tear him out of that tin can was dashed as I heard a click-click-click followed by a searing burst of pain as he hit me with some kind of energy attack. Dazed, my ears were buzzing and at first I thought I was seeing stars before I realized I was looking at the starburst-like flowers that surrounded the fountain.
Flowers...
I heard Blaze's jetpack roar to life as he flew above me to put some distance between us. I knew I was in no shape to take him in the condition that I was in, but I had an idea. But to pull it off I'd have to get close. Very close.
I laughed once. "You know the stupid thing? I wanted to be just like you," I told him. "Not as much of a dickwad, of course," I said as I dodged one of his blasts. "But I wanted the flashy name, the cool costume, people looking up to me. 'Cause that's what heroes are supposed to be like, right? But you know what, Blaze? They lied to us. They just want us to follow in their footsteps so we can validate the jerkass decisions they made. We don't have to be like them."
"I'm not gonna be like them," he said. "'Cause I'm gonna show 'em how it's done. And I'm gonna start by showing the world who and what you really are, girl."
As I stood there in the courtyard and I looked up at him flying overhead, I braced myself as I saw his suit start to deploy a number of launchers for all sorts of evil-looking weapons.
"Yeah, well, there's one thing you haven't considered," I told him.
"What's that?"
I tensed my muscles. "I can fly, too, dumbass."
I launched myself at him with as much speed as I could muster and slammed into him with terrifying velocity. But instead of just punching him I held on and grappled with him, clawing at his armor as I tried to work my fingers into one of the seams. The next thing I knew my entire body felt like it was on fire as he tagged me with some kind of neural disruptor—which was totally illegal, that cheating bastard—and then hit me with everything he had. Electroshock shielding, hypersonic emitters, and some things I didn't even know the names for that were definitely ruining my ordinarily sunny disposition. All I knew at that point was that I was in excruciating pain, and I would have given anything for it to stop. But through the agony, I kept my grip on him and pulled at his armor as hard as I possibly could.
And that's when I blacked out.
The next thing I knew I was on the ground. As I forced my eyes open I saw the statue of Starbrite above me and I realized I must have fallen into the shattered fountain among the flowers, and as I lay there I thought that this would be a fitting place to end it, here at the feet of the young heroine who had sacrificed her own life in the pursuit of justice.
"Any last words, Patterson?" Blaze taunted. I turned my head and saw that he was standing only a few feet away from me, but I could barely hear him through the buzzing in my ears.
"Yeah," I gasped. "You never learned. Even the older heroes never forgot...the importance...of...teamwork..."
I slumped back amidst the rubble and as he scoffed and raised his arm to finish me off, he finally heard the buzzing, too.
A dark cloud descended from the garden and soon a swarm of flying insects filled the courtyard: the bees that had been pollinating the flowers. And there, standing confidently on the other side of the courtyard, was Bhramari.
Blaze saw her and laughed. "Bug girl?" he snorted. "Yeah, that's hilarious. I'm supposed to be afraid of a mosquito bite? News flash, bitch, I'm protected in here in climate-controlled comfort."
"Uh huh," I told him. "Mostly."
As the swarm descended on him he looked down and noticed the seam on his armor that I'd been pulling at earlier. The damage I'd inflicted was minimal, hardly more than a dent, but it had opened up a small hole. Just big enough.
"AAAGGGHHH!" Blaze screamed as the insects poured in through the breach. He shot wildly and ineffectually into the air as he writhed about in agony before he finally collapsed in a heap.
Mari walked over and stood over his defeated form, licked her index finger, and then made a mark in the air.
"That's one," she mouthed mutely.
"Nice," I groaned as she helped me to my feet. "Oh, God, Trixie," I said as I saw her lying on the ground. I started to go check on her before Mari touched me on the arm and signed a message.
"You're sure she's okay?" I asked.
She nodded.
I groaned again as I felt the lacerations, burns and bruises across my entire body and tried to keep from falling over. And as I looked down at myself I noticed that the rends and tears across my costume weren't repairing themselves like they usually did, either. I guessed that Blaze must have hit me with some kind of localized EMP attack to fry the nanobots, probably in anticipation of hitting me with another corrosive acid shell to dissolve my costume so I'd be running around naked.
"Asshole," I muttered.
I then turned to Mari. "Okay, I need to get in there and help Prodigy. You get Trixie and get out of here."
She shook her head and signed a message emphatically.
"Fine, join me when you can. But I gotta get inside," I told her. But as I hurried for the building—as much as I could as I nursed my wounds—I worried about what I was going to find. I just hoped Prodigy had it all under control because I knew I was in no kind of shape to help.
I entered the structure and discovered the wrecks of three automated defense bots scattered around, obviously Prodigy's handiwork. The trail of destruction led deeper inside to a reinforced door with a coded lock that now stood open, behind which was a set of stairs that led down beneath ground level. I carefully made my way to the lower level, feeling a little on edge from the quiet that now filled the space. I would have much preferred to hear sounds of fighting since at least then I would have known that Prodigy was still okay.
Halfway down the steps I hesitated when I heard the sound of voices coming from up ahead. I couldn't make out what was being said but it sounded like they were having some sort of conversation. Unsure what was going on, I hovered the rest of my way down the steps to avoid making any footsteps and I paused just outside the entryway to a huge room filled with massive complicated-looking equipment. I didn't recognize any of it, but it all seemed to be connected to a device that looked like something straight out of Doctor Frankenstein's lab that had a pair of beds hooked up to it. Demetria lay on one of the beds apparently semi-conscious and Prodigy stood next to her, saying something.
I strained to hear what they were saying but I could only make it out bits and pieces. "You blamed... Never resented... Lost her... Lose you... Only way... Love..." I recognized Demetria's voice but at first I wasn't even sure it was Prodigy that was speaking since he didn't sound nearly as gruff and combative as he usually did. Instead he sounded more resigned and sad.
I watched as Demetria's head fell back onto the pillow as she slipped fully under.
Then, very clearly, I heard Prodigy say the words, "Goodbye, Demi," as I watched him pull out an explosive grenade.
"Wait, wait, whoa!" I yelled as I flew in as fast as I could and plucked the grenade out of his hand. "Are you nuts? What happened to not just pulling the plug? 'Untold psychic damage to everyone she's plugged into.' That's what you said!"
"Kid, she's already plugged into half the city and she won't stop there. She's not coming out on her own, believe me. You wanted to be a hero, well, heroes make the big decisions. Every minute we waste puts more people in jeopardy. This is the only way."
"He's right," a voice came from the stairwell. It was Trixie, and she was leaning on Mari as they entered. "She has to be stopped."
As she got closer I saw that her eyes weren't fixed on Demetria, but rather on the empty bed next to her that was also connected to the machine.
"This is where she did it, isn't it?" Trixie whispered to nobody in particular. Her expression was completely vacant as her eyes drifted over to the unconscious Demetria. "It has to end," she whispered. "It has to end forever."
Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, I moved to interpose myself between them and Demetria.
"Trixie? I love you like a sister, but I don't think you're in a good place to make this decision," I said as she gave me a dark look. "Neither of you are," I added, looking at Prodigy.
"Listen to me, you smartass little snot-nosed cheerleader," Prodigy snapped. "You think this is easy for me? Well, unlike you, I've faced death before. And I'm gonna—"
"No. This time you're going to listen to me, old man. You think I haven't faced death? I have! Promethean pinned me down helpless and I beat him. Killbane nearly roasted me alive and I survived. Then Viridian nearly choked the...life...out of me..." My voice trailed off as I thought about those encounters.
I looked at the machine and turned to Prodigy. "You have to hook me up to the machine. I can stop her."
Prodigy was still furious with me but my pronouncement seemed to catch him off his guard. "What the hell are you talking about? She'd eat you alive. You're not a psychic."
"I am," I said absently. "I mean, I think I could be." I shook my head. "Don't you see, it all makes sense. Demetria said I had some crazy untapped potential."
"That doesn't mean—"
"No. Listen. All three times I thought I was going to die, something weird saved me. Killbane tried to burn me alive, but at the end, his flames not only didn't touch me, they invigorated me. Then when his father almost killed me, I started to match his strength before Harridan intervened. Then when Promethean...attacked...me, I burned him with this insane laser vision. I haven't been able to do it before or since."
"You think you somehow copied their powers," Trixie realized. Mari signed something and Trixie sniffed derisively. "Yeah, I think she's crazy, too," Trixie said.
"Then that makes three of us," Prodigy agreed. "Even if you're right, you've no idea if you could copy her powers. And even if you did, you're still no match for her years of training. There's no way I'm letting you do it."
"What happened to you not being able to stop me?" I asked. "Look, it's worth a shot. You're the one who said I needed to step up, listen to myself, and make the big decisions."
"And you decided to pick right now to start listening to me?" he retorted. "No. Forget it. We're not risking it."
I sighed heavily and looked back at the device. "Okay, fair enough. But what if we—"
I suddenly spun around and sucker punched him while his guard was down and he hit the floor like a sack of bricks.
Trixie and Mari looked at me in alarm. "Peej, what the hell are you—"
"This is happening," I said as I turned towards the machine. "Don't you try to—"
*BOOOM*
The explosion came from outside and was close enough to shake the building, maybe even the entire complex. We were nearly thrown from our feet as the building lurched.
"That's a bad sound," I said.
Two seconds later, red lights started flashing and a very shrill and insistent alarm wailed throughout the building.
"That's a very bad sound."
Mari and Trixie hurriedly signed back and forth. "Mari's right," Trixie said. "That's the evacuation alarm. That means either the generators are going to explode or the protective dome has been breached."
The sound of another distant explosion reverberated through the room.
"Though it may not be an either/or situation," she amended.
"Blaze's friends like to play rough," I muttered. "How long do we have?"
Trixie shook her head.
"Okay. You need to get everyone out of here, starting with Prodigy," I said, pointing to my unconscious mentor. "People are going to be unconscious or hurt from the fight. Mari can scout for survivors with her insects and you can portal them to the exit and get them to safety."
"But—!"
"No. You're the only ones who can do it. I'll be right behind you, I promise."
Mari signed a message to me.
"Yes, Mari, you have to get Blaze out, too."
She made an obscene gesture of frustration.
Trixie took me by the hand. "Right behind us?" she said, eyeing Demetria. "And if you're not?"
"Well, then, I'd like something tasteful for the memorial. A statue, maybe fifty, sixty feet tall? You know, understated." Then, seeing her worried expression, I added, "But if we pull this off, we're gonna party. And I don't mean jumping up and down and hugging, I'm talking like a full-on Bollywood-style dance routine with colorful costumes and a whole bunch of minor characters from our lives who have astonishingly good dance moves."
She squeezed my hand. "Right behind us," she said emphatically. Then they headed for the exit.
It looked like the bed's interface was already active since the machine was working, so I laid back and started to close my eyes. The last thing I saw was Trixie looking at me with an expression that at first I took for concern but then realized was sheer terror.
* * * * *
I felt a surge of disorientation like I was spinning out of control, and my breath caught in my throat as I felt my surroundings snap suddenly into focus, a change that was so abrupt that it knocked me off my guard for a few seconds. Anticipating an attack, my training instinctively kicked in and I jumped quickly to the side as I tried to get my bearings.
I realized that I was back outside the building, standing in the garden.
I shook my head and tried to remember how I'd gotten outside. Had Trixie teleported me? It was only then that I started to realize that the garden wasn't quite how I remembered it...it was larger and more colorful and the manicured groups of plants and flowers seemed to have given way to seemingly random groups of vibrant wildflowers. They were spectacular and a bit dizzying to take in, like there were colors there that my brain didn't know how to process. And as I caught my breath, I could smell the pungent aromas of the flowers, a bizarre mix of smells that were sweet and musky, smoky and fruity all at the same time.
"What do you think of my garden?" Demetria asked.
I spun around to face her and saw her standing there with a beatific smile. She had an almost angelic glow about her, and I saw that many of the plants and flowers had reached out towards her like they were reaching towards the sun. Many of the creeping vines had started to entwine themselves around her arms and legs, but she didn't seem the least bit perturbed. In fact, she seemed to welcome it, and she stroked one of the flowered vines lovingly.
"This isn't your garden," I realized.
She smiled. "That's true. But while the flowers in my garden are rare and the last of their kind, I think you'll agree that these specimens are far more precious," she said as she caressed one of the blossoms.
"This isn't real," I said. "I'm plugged into the machine. With you." I blinked again at the vibrant display and suddenly realized why my senses were under assault. It was my brain desperately trying to make sense of something it had never experienced before, trying to give context to a sensation for which I couldn't even give a name.
"It helps if you close your eyes," Demetria said.
I had no reason to trust her, but she'd said it so gently that I found myself following her advice. But even limiting my sensory input, I still felt like I was in danger of being swept away, like there was a whirlwind of different feelings brushing past me that all demanded my attention. I felt a sudden rush of emotions—fear, love, anger, jealousy—wash over me. I took a breath and tried to separate myself from what I was feeling, like a passive observer outside my own sensory experience.
My eyes snapped open. "Oh, God. These are people." I recoiled from some of the flowers and vines that had gathered near my feet on the garden path, afraid to touch them.
"Yes. They're representations of the connection that I—that we—now have to the people of the city. The garden is just my way of making sense of it. When I first arrived here it was just a whirling miasma of emotion and feeling. It's taken me a long time to bring this much structure to the experience." She looked me over like she was sizing me up. "I'm very impressed, you know. I never dreamed you'd be able to follow me this far."
"So I am mimicking your powers?" I asked.
"At least somewhat. Your abilities have blossomed more quickly than I would have thought possible."
I snorted.
"What is it?"
"I think that's the first time someone used the word 'blossomed' in reference to me when it wasn't a euphemism for my boobs."
A wry smile passed her lips. "Ah, yes. But now that we're so connected, I think we both know that's not entirely accurate. Is it, Christopher?"
My jaw dropped, but I recovered. "Fine, you know the truth. I'm still going to stop you."
"Stop me?" she said, incredulous. "Child, right now you may be the only other person in the world capable of understanding why I'm doing this." She gestured to the wildflowers. "Go on. Open yourself up to them."
Hesitantly I lowered my guard and again felt the onrush of emotions that threatened to sweep me away. It felt like a violent, roiling sea and I was desperately clinging to a life raft. As I fought to separate myself from it, I sensed something else lurking beneath the surface.
Something dark.
"You can feel it, can't you?" she said. "The fear, the anger, the distrust...the hate. Not just from the criminals, but the good people of the city, too. The ones living in fear, the ones who feel powerless against the changes taking place around them and terrified of what might come next. The city—the world—is going mad with fear and hate."
"It's not...everywhere."
"It doesn't have to be everywhere. It's a poison, a cancer that is slowly killing everyone. It drives a stake through the heart of who we are as a society, tears us apart as people, diminishes us as individuals," she said solemnly. "Everyone is so focused on crime and supervillains as the enemy, but they're just symptoms of the disease."
"And you think this is the cure? Brainwashing everyone?"
"It's not brainwashing. It's empathy. In one move I'm going to teach everyone to be able to recognize the feelings of their fellow man. Just think of it. To have discourse without resorting to rancor. To identify with others and see that their pain and their fear is the same as your own. To be able to look past the blind hatred and see how we're all connected. Imagine a world without supervillains, where every metahuman is a hero and feels a deep connection to the lives around them." She closed her eyes. "You're feeling it right now, I know you are. We're connected to the city. Let it touch you."
She was right...as I concentrated, I could start to sense individuals, like picking voices out of a chorus. I could feel what everyone in the city was feeling, and it was overwhelming. The fearful cry of a newborn for her mother, the despair of an old man mourning his departed wife, the joy of a newlywed couple on their wedding night... I couldn't even process all of it. But there was a thrumming undercurrent, a deep and abiding sense of connection. I choked back an involuntary sob as I struggled to find myself before I became swept away.
As I opened my eyes I saw one of the blossoms—the one representing the old man—wither and fall off the vine. I couldn't sense him anymore.
"What just happened?" I said accusingly.
She looked at me gently. "I think you know," she said as she touched one of the vines. "Not everyone can survive even this level of connection. Fewer still once I awaken their potential. But those who survive will build a glorious future for everyone."
I picked up the fallen flower, horrified. And as I looked up I could see others falling here and there, like fading spring blossoms.
"All these people..." I whispered.
"It's a terrible tragedy," she said sadly. "But just imagine if everyone with super powers could feel what you're feeling right now, even just a little. Imagine the kind of world they could build. All those heroes—an entire city of them, fighting selflessly. Isn't that worth dying for?"
"Yes, it is," I admitted. "But it's not worth killing for. Thousands—tens of thousands!—of innocent people are going to die!"
She nodded solemnly. "I know. And maybe that makes me a monster, and perhaps that's how I'll be remembered. But I'm prepared to bear that burden. If I could spare the world the agony I'm about to inflict, believe me, I would. But these will be the birthing pains of a brighter future."
I felt a strange vibration run through the space and realized it had probably come from the real world where the Sanctuary was falling apart by the second. I was running out of time. But at Demetria's mention of birthing pains, I sensed something from her.
"None of this will bring your daughter back," I told her. "Or make you feel any less guilty for failing to protect her. What happened to her was her choice. It wasn't your fault."
She smiled. "You're in my head, that's very good," she said. "But I'm inside yours too, Christopher. And we both know that you don't think you can beat me."
"Yeah, well, as Prodigy likes to remind me, I'm just a punk kid, what do I know?"
Before she could respond I launched myself into the air and flew right at her and pulled at the vines that had reached out for her and grasped at her with their long tendrils. As I did so I found myself once again overwhelmed with the emotions of the "flowers"—of the people—and the raw sensations pushed me towards sensory overload. Desperately, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to power through the feelings and yanked as hard as I could. But for every vine I pulled away from her two more snaked past me and eventually I had to concede that I was fighting a losing battle. But as I grabbed another vine and yanked it close, I felt something much more immediate and personal that shocked me to my core.
"Mom?" I whispered.
Stunned, I looked down at the small yellow flower in front of me. Its appearance was almost insignificant amongst all the others, but hidden in that tiny blossom I immediately felt the presence of my mother. It was her, I was certain of it. I wasn't sure if she could sense me at all, but I could feel her concern, which grew into worry and then fear. I struggled to keep a grip on the vine, but as I looked up and saw that even while I was holding onto it, the lower half of the vine had wrapped gently around Demetria. Even when I thought I had them, I was losing them. And as I watched another blossom fall, my hands began to tremble as I despaired for what was in store for Mom, for Dad, for Caleb...for absolutely everyone I knew.
Demetria shook her head like a parent teaching a lesson to a small child. "Now, do you see? You have no idea how to beat me. Nothing you've learned or experienced has prepared you for this. I know that the Sanctuary is about to be destroyed and I know I'm going to die here. But you don't have to. Not if you leave now. Please just leave me to my work."
"No," I whimpered as the tears ran down my cheeks and I desperately clutched the vine that held my mother's flower. "I'm going to beat you. Do you know why? Because you're just fighting for your beliefs. I'm fighting for the lives of everyone I love."
"Child, you're strong and brave, but you can't win this fight."
"YOU'RE WRONG!" I screamed.
That's when I felt...something.
It was just a flutter at first, barely a tickle at the edge of my mind, like a whisper. But I'd definitely felt it, and it had come from my mother's flower. I wiped away my tears as I cradled it and tried to sense what had changed. At first it seemed fleeting and ephemeral, but I realized there was a strength there, a tenacity I didn't expect. I struggled to grasp at it even as I fumbled in my mind for a word to describe what I was sensing.
Hope.
I suddenly realized that Demetria was right...this wasn't a fight I could win. Because it wasn't a fight at all. All of my experiences as a hero had taught me to buckle down and fight harder when the going got tough, but now I saw that would never be enough since there would always be challenges that would be more than I could handle. But in that moment that's when it hit me that I'd been so focused on being the hero everyone else wanted me to be that I'd never stopped to ask myself the kind of hero that I wanted to be. And I realized I didn't just want to be the kind of hero who saved people...I wanted to be the kind of hero who inspired them.
This problem was too big for me. But it wasn't too big for all of us, together.
And I knew what I had to do.
I held my mother's flower close and tried to connect with the same certainty I'd experienced a moment ago, that somehow—some way—that everything would be all right, even if the path was uncertain. Then I took a deep breath. And I let her go.
The vine immediately fell into the tangle of the other vines, lost among the other flowers. But I didn't look back as I launched myself into the air and flew through the garden.
It was terrifying.
And thrilling.
I touched groups of flowers here and there, and once again the waves of their conflicting emotions crashed down on me, a rising tide of panic and fear that threatened to consume me. But this time I focused on my own fears and doubts—my fear of failure, my uncertainty about being a hero, my worries about what my schoolmates thought of me, what my parents thought of me, what Prodigy thought of me—and now that I faced my fears and weighed them against all the things that I had accomplished—that I would accomplish!—they just seemed...ridiculous. Like the fearsome monster in the dark closet that's revealed to just be a coat on a coat hanger. For the first time since I could remember I didn't feel self-conscious or worried how I'd be perceived as Chris Patterson or Prodigious Girl, high schooler or heroine, guy or girl. I was just me, with all of my amazing gifts and talents, free and unburdened from the expectations of myself or others.
A feeling of brilliant audacity swept through me and I swooped low over the wildflowers and twisted in a graceful arc as the pressure of all of my darkest worries and deepest insecurities that had been holding me down suddenly lightened, like I'd let go of an invisible weight I'd been carrying. It wasn't that my problems weren't real, but I realized that no matter what they were I would rise to meet the challenge, just like I'd always done.
I was a hero.
I abandoned myself to the moment and closed my eyes not in fear but rather so I could better appreciate the sensations I was experiencing...the rush of wind, the changing pull of gravity, the electric feeling of the raw emotional energy that spiraled around me even as it threatened to engulf me. But as I flew around the garden I could feel that my passion and confidence had kindled something within me, and now I returned the favor as I touched other people and sensed as the change took place in them, and soon all around me.
As I arced gracefully through the space I became aware that the vines that had been clinging to Demetria had begun to untangle themselves and many of them were reaching out towards me like we were in a playful game of tag. They became vibrant and energetic dance partners as I spun and twirled through the air over the garden and soon the positive energy that had infected me began to infect them, as well.
I reveled in the feeling. No fear. No doubt. No second-guessing myself. I felt self-assured. Bold. Elated. I actually giggled.
"What are you doing?" Demetria said, the worry evident in her voice.
She gestured towards me and once again I felt the crushing fear and uncertainty that she had been cultivating grow within me, and I saw the vines around her grow tighter, like frightened children running to their mother for comfort. But now I had allies, too. One of the vines that I'd touched earlier brushed against me and the flowers there radiated hope and confidence, reinvigorating my spirit and causing my doubt to vanish like a puddle in the sun. As I looked around the garden I realized I'd sparked something which now had begun to grow of its own accord and couldn't be stopped.
I landed and felt as the vines and flowers brushed against me. They surrounded me, tickled me and filled me with a glowing positive energy. And the vines themselves were now drawn to each other as well, twisting around each other and sharing their strength to create something greater than the sum of their parts. I realized that I—that all of us together—had become beacons of hope, and even though I could still sense pockets of fear and anger and hate, they were being driven back like shadows retreating from a fire that burned bright in the darkness.
Demetria, now standing alone, stared at me in shock and disbelief. I wondered what her reaction was going to be, if she was going to be furious at being usurped or afraid of what I had done. But instead, to my surprise, she looked at me in wonder.
"It's beautiful," she said almost reverently. "How did you do this?"
I smiled as one of the vines tickled my arm. "You forgot who they were, all these people we're fighting for," I said to her. "You saw them as they are...and you're right, so many are suffering and mired in despair and anger. But I don't see them that way. I see them as what they can be, full of wonder and potential. They just needed to be reminded that they're capable of so much more. They needed hope, and someone to show them the way." I looked her in the eyes. "That's what heroes do. They inspire people."
She took a few hesitant steps forward as she saw how her "garden" had changed and a shadow crossed her face, but not of anger, but rather one of longing and regret. "I'd forgotten," she said as she beheld the blossoming flowers that surrounded me. Then she held out her hand. "Please?" she said.
I hesitated, but only for a moment. And then I welcomed her in.
A change came over her and her expression turned to one of pure contentment as she felt the positive emotions wash over her. She smiled at me warmly as she said, "Thank you for this."
Then she shoved me out, knocking me to the ground.
"What the—!" I yelled, ready for a fight.
Demetria held up her hand, still surrounded by the vines and flowers as she shook her head. "It's all right. I promise I won't hurt them," she said softly as the vines slowly started to pull away, one by one, all returning to their places in the garden. "I was so fixated on all the fear and anger I could sense in the world that I thought only something brutal would awaken people, but I was wrong. People aren't things that need to be fixed or saved, they're living beings who should be inspired and nurtured." She looked at me with that same expression she'd had the day I first met her, the one that made me feel like anything was possible. "You planted a seed here today, and now that seed needs a chance to grow. But I meant what I said before—if you stay here, you will die. And they need you."
I felt a lump form in my throat. "They need you, too. Come with me. Please?"
She shook her head. "I'm still connected to all these people. I need to finish breaking the psychic connections or many will die when the Sanctuary is destroyed. Do you trust me to do that?"
I gave her an earnest little smile. "Well, sure. I mean, you are a superhero, after all."
An unexpected tremor shook the garden and we both realized that it must have come from back in the real world. The Sanctuary didn't have much time, and neither did I. I turned to face her, not sure what to say, but before I could open my mouth she made a gesture and the next thing I knew I felt another rush of disorientation and found myself back on the table lying next to Demetria's unconscious form.
Urgent alarms blared throughout the facility and from outside I heard and felt an explosion that shook the entire room as I clambered to my feet. It was immediately followed by another much closer explosion that nearly knocked me to the ground as I heard the screech of metal on metal from right above me. For a moment I looked at Demetria and instinctively wanted to grab her and make for the exit, but I knew that wasn't the choice that she had made.
"I'm sorry," I whispered as I left her behind.
I tore out of the building and flew high into the air and beheld the Sanctuary as I sped for the exit. Explosions and fires were starting to pick up and the protective dome to the warp space outside looked like it was about to give way any minute. I made a beeline for the exit portals and kept an eye out for stragglers as I dodged falling debris, but it looked like everyone had taken the explosions and alarms seriously and evacuated the facility. Almost everyone.
"Peej!" Trixie cried out in relief as I landed in front of her and she threw her arms around me. "Gods, I thought you were—"
"I'm okay. We should go."
She nodded and I paused for just a moment to look at the crumbling Sanctuary, thinking how sad it was to lose this place. In her own way Demetria had intended it to be a beacon of hope, but she'd gotten lost along the way.
"I'll be right back," I said, taking off back inside.
"WHAT?!?" Trixie screamed.
Two minutes later I tore back towards the exit at breakneck speed, dodging the fires and explosions that were now everywhere as the dome cracked and the entire place teetered on the brink of imminent destruction. I practically plowed into Trixie as I landed next to the portal, and we dove to safety barely in the nick of time as we heard the walls breach behind us as the Sanctuary was torn apart and the portal closed.
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Trixie yelled at me as she punched me repeatedly in the arm and I winced in response. She had no chance of actually hurting me through my invulnerable skin, but I'd learned that sometimes it was good to make it look like it hurt. It was just good manners.
She gave me one last punch for good measure. "And exactly what was so important to risk getting killed? Again?"
I had removed my cape and now held it cradled in my arms. I opened it up to show her what was bundled safely inside.
She stared at me in disbelief. "You are such a girl," she said.
* * * * *
Over the next few weeks life settled into a new routine. After the big blow-up I didn't get home until almost 3 a.m., by which point Mom and Dad had apparently come to grips with their belief that I was almost certainly dead somewhere, especially given the unexplained psychic catastrophe that had threatened the city. Thus, when I arrived at home looking none the worse for wear and with a fully-charged phone, my parents' relief quickly gave way to the notion that putting me up belatedly for adoption and starting their lives anew as a childless couple might not be such a bad idea.
I had never seen them so angry. Their emotions pinballed between relief that I was okay and blind rage that I could be okay and worry them as I had. Apparently once the city started to go bananas they'd frantically looked up who I was supposedly babysitting and the picture of the little girl that Caleb uploaded was the Gerber Baby. Oops.
To make matters worse, since Blaze had fried the nanobots that repaired my costume I'd been unable to change my clothes back to normal, so after peeling myself out of my costume I'd had to borrow some clothes from Caleb. So, once my already overwrought parents realized that I'd sneaked out to parts unknown until all hours and returned home dressed as a guy in a T-shirt and jeans in blatant defiance of their edict...well, they took it badly. They grounded me for a month—which I was prepared to take—but then Mom hit me with the coup de grace and informed me that since I seemed to be better behaved as a girl, they were extending my "girl time" to run through my entire summer vacation, 24/7, no excuses.
Even Dad seemed thrown by that but he took one look at Mom's face and quietly backed her up. I exploded into a perhaps unhelpful rant which quickly turned into exhausted begging and pleading, but she was adamant. And after she reopened her threat to send me to school in her wedding dress, I quietly pursued the better part of valor.
"Valor." I still think that would have been an awesome hero name. I tell you, if that name had been available that fateful day at hero registration, well...this probably would have been a shorter book, for one thing.
So.
For those keeping score at home, here was the final tally:
And yet, in spite of all that, I couldn't. Stop. Smiling!
"Who saaaaved the city? I saaaaved the city," I sang to myself as I sat at my vanity putting on my makeup. I grabbed a hair brush and pretended like I was being interviewed and I affected a serious expression. "Oh, sure, I suppose I was the one who discovered the plot and stayed with it when everyone else wanted to ignore it, and y'know, risked my life to save everyone, but it really was a team effort. We showed a lot of heart and some good hustle out there, and we couldn't have done it if everyone hadn't done their part," I said.
I happily wiggled my butt back and forth in my seat. "Who saaaaved the ci—"
From over on my laptop I was interrupted when I heard a familiar voice on the HeroVerse newsfeed.
"Well, I think the word 'hero' gets overused a lot these days," Quasarblaze said on the screen, "but I definitely think it applies to me. Nobody knew about the threat to the city until I called everyone in, so I'd say a debt of gratitude is owed, and I'm not just talking in financial terms—"
Arcturus, who was standing next to him, cut him off. "We are of course grateful for the assistance of the junior heroes for alerting us to this threat, but I think this is yet another reason to revisit the anti-vigilante legislation—"
"Ugh," I groaned as I slapped the lid down on the laptop. Oh, that's right, we can also add to the list:
I knew I was forgetting something.
Annoyed, I turned back to stare at myself in the mirror and sighed heavily as my feminized reflection stared back at me. I couldn't help but feel despondent.
Temporarily.
"Who saaaved the city? I saaaaaved the ciiiity..." I grinned.
* * * * *
It was a few weeks before I was able to check in on Prodigy. He hadn't signaled me that whole time and at first I figured he was still angry with me but I also guessed he needed time to deal with what happened with Demetria. When I entered the garage I noticed he was already there at work on the car, so I quietly entered and put the potted plant I was carrying on one of the counters.
He didn't even look up. "What the hell is that?"
"I recovered it from the Sanctuary before it was destroyed," I said, not sure if he recognized it as one of the flowers that had surrounded Starbrite's statue in the garden. "It turns out it's an alien plant, an Elysian Starblossom. They're thought to be extinct," I told him. "I thought the place could use a little color."
He looked up from the engine. "Absolutely not. I let you bring this thing in and the next thing you know you'll be tossing around throw pillows and bringing in a crocheted blanket your Gammy made for you."
"C'mon, it's a tough little bastard! It hardly needs water and it only needs florescent light—"
He held up a hand to stop me. "I'm curious. Did I make a noise or gesture that suggested that I was the least bit interested in that thing's dietary needs?"
"Look, you could even keep it next to your Kalothian genital parasites, here. They're both from outer space, so it could be like Superman's menagerie zoo in his Fortress of Solitude."
He just glared at me.
"Fine," I sighed. He went back to work on the car and as I looked at the plant, my eyes fell on the parasites' cage. I leaned over and peered at them through the glass. "I can't believe these guys survived the explosion."
"You wouldn't say that if you'd seen their home planet. That cage is basically indestructible. It cost me more than the car."
"Hey, where's Harpo?"
"What?"
"Harpo's gone. We're missing a parasite."
He hesitated. "Hm. It must have gotten out when I cleaned the cage. Be careful where you sit down or it could be shocking and unpleasant for both of you."
"Uh huh," I said slowly, watching him closely as I sidled closer to the car. "You know, they said in the news that Promethean just took a leave of absence. Something about a medical problem."
"You don't say."
"Mmm hmm. They were vague on the details, but it sounded personal and private." I leaned against the car. "Very personal and very private."
Prodigy stopped working and I cocked an eyebrow at him. "And we just happen to be missing an alien genital parasite."
He scowled at me. "What are you, Nancy Drew all of a sudden?"
I held my gaze.
"Well," he said as he grabbed a dirty rag and wiped the grease off his hands, "something like that would suck for a guy like Promethean. With skin that invulnerable, the tick might never be able to claw its way out. It'd just grow there, gnawing and scratching away but never able to escape."
"That sounds painful."
"Yeah, that's nothing. Wait'll it lays its eggs." He made a pained face.
"Ugh, that should cut into his love life."
"We can only hope," he said, watching as I walked back over to the plant and picked it up. "What, you're leaving already?"
"I'm still grounded. And please don't start, you've no idea what my folks are putting me through."
"Yeah, well, this isn't the level of commitment I expect from my partner."
I smiled. "Have I been promoted?"
"It's provisional. Don't make a big deal out of it."
I noticed as his gaze fell on the flower and I gestured back at the table. "Y'know, it might be easier to just leave this here—"
He shook his head. "Kid, I know what you're trying to do, and it's not working. Believe me, I have enough reminders of her. Of both of them," he said, staring at me with a faraway and pensive look that wasn't an expression I was used to seeing from him. "Besides," he said, "I think she would have wanted you to have it."
I nodded quietly.
"And if you tell anyone I said that, I'll drop you so fast that your ass will find out before the rest of you does."
"Glad to see you're feeling like your old self," I muttered.
I took a few steps to leave and then paused and turned to look back at him. "Y'know, when I was plugged into that machine, I had some of Demetria's empathic powers," I reminded him. "I know you're not really as cynical and jaded as you pretend to be."
He sniffed. "Yeah, well, I'm not nearly as idealistic and starry-eyed as you seem to think I am, either."
I hugged the plant a little tighter and gave him a small smile. "We'll see," I said before I left.
I think that was the first time he ever let me have the last word in an argument.
* * * * *
That evening after dinner as I finished doing the dishes I turned around to see my dad bring in a large flat package wrapped in brown paper. Both my parents had funny looks on their faces as he put it on the kitchen table.
"This is for you," Mom said with a smile. "From both of us."
Dad gave a sidelong glance to Mom. "Though I'm still not sure I approve."
She shushed him as I approached the package uncertainly. I tore away the paper to reveal a large framed artwork print of Faraday City done up in a retro 60s style, gleaming and bright like it was full of optimism for the future. I looked closer and noticed there were several bright curving rays of color overlaid to represent the supers as they flew, raced, or swung across the city.
"I noticed you were...redecorating," Mom said. "I thought you could put it over your bed where that poster was. Do you like it?"
I spun around and hugged them both. "I love it," I said.
My father smiled and shook his head at the print when his cell phone rang. "Detective Trainor! Yes, I found the old Freeform case file you were looking for. Dr. Glass kept an address at..." His voice trailed off as he headed to his den and closed the door.
Mom kissed me on the head and then went to do some writing on her laptop when the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," I said as I paused to take one last look at the print. There was a time I'd have been mortified to answer the door dressed like a girl but lately it didn't seem like that big a deal. It bothered me that I might actually be getting used to it.
There was another impatient knock at the door, and I turned to answer it. "Fine! Hold your horses!" I called. I grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open wide. "What do you—"
Standing there on our front porch was Marty Maddox.
I hurried across the threshold and closed the door behind me as I stared at him in alarm. "Mr. Maddox! W-what are you doing here? I—I mean, it's such an honor to meet you—"
"Smooth. But you can drop the act, 'Prodigious Girl.'"
I glanced nervously over my shoulder. "Oh, God. Look, my parents don't know. Please don't tell them, okay? You used to hang out with heroes, you know what it's like. I mean, imagine if Arcturus's secret identity was in your hands!"
He shook his head and ran his hand over his balding pate. "Unbelievable. What was the very first thing I taught you?"
I swallowed hard and tried to think back to the first time I met him on the rooftop having lunch. It was all a blur. "I—I don't know. Something about being true to myself?"
"No. The first lesson I taught you was that if you ever used that asshole Arcturus's name in a sentence, you should always use the word 'asshole' at least twice to make it clear that's how big an asshole he is."
My jaw dropped. "Y-you..."
"Yes."
"You're actually..."
"That's right."
"And you've always—?"
"The whole time."
"Prodigy?" I whispered incredulously. "I didn't— I mean, I never—"
"Yeah, that's kind of the whole point of a secret identity, genius."
I stood there stunned, trying to reconcile the sight of this schlubby, balding but friendly middle-aged guy who had been my confidante with the harsh, aging, white-haired but decidedly trim mentor who seemed to take delight in tormenting me. Mentally, I deconstructed his figure and concluded that Marty's extra weight and Prodigy's advanced age were probably just skillful padding and makeup, but that his balding head was probably genuine.
"You wear a toupee as part of your costume?" I asked.
"You grow tits for yours."
"Fair enough."
I then stopped and considered his dual identities for a moment. "When I met with you on the rooftop that one time, I called you a pompous and decrepit old windbag," I said. "To your face."
"I remember."
I made a pained expression. "That's gonna cost me later, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," he said in that all-too-familiar gravelly voice. It sounded unnatural to hear Prodigy's voice coming out of Marty's mouth, but he quickly switched back, which only made the whole situation even more bizarre. "You seriously had no idea who I was?"
"Uh uh."
He looked me up and down in my girlish outfit and shook his head. "You are disappointing on so many levels."
My eyes lit up. "Oh my gosh, did you just quote Batman from The Lego Movie? I knew you had a sense of humor!"
"So many levels," he repeated.
"You were nice to me. You even gave me a brownie!"
"Yeah, sometimes you gotta suck it up and do things you don't like."
I raised an eyebrow. "You also told me I was bright, talented, and had a good heart," I reminded him. "You said I had limitless potential."
He looked me over. "It's interesting how you've decided to use it."
I felt myself blush red. "You know, I, uh, don't actually like to dress like this."
"Yeah, secret identities will make you do some really dumb shit," he agreed as he shook his head in disbelief.
"Did you ever have to do anything like this?"
"Oh, no," he chuckled. "No way. I think you're in a class by yourself on this one, kid."
"So, wait. You knew about me the whole time? Why didn't you say anything?"
He looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I put it together eventually. You didn't seem too keen to trust me with it and...well, maybe I left something to be desired in terms of earning your trust."
I stared at him in shock. "You left something to be—? You're kidding me with this, right?"
"Hey, I'm here, aren't I?"
"You—!" I was about to tear into him for all the torments he'd inflicted on me, his snarky remarks and sharp rebukes, his dubious attempts of mentorship, and I realized that this was probably the closest thing to an apology I was ever going to get from him. And that trusting me with his greatest secret was the finest gesture he knew how to give. "Yeah, I guess you are," I admitted with a little half smile.
Then my smile faded. "Hey, why are you here, again?"
"Well, for one thing, this I had to see with my own eyes," he said, looking at me incredulously.
I crossed my arms defensively. "Uh huh. Anything else?"
"I was thinking," he added, "if you're gonna need to explain a bunch of absences, why don't you swing by the AGON offices tomorrow after school and we'll get you set up with an internship."
"Really? Wow, that'd be—wait, I can't," I groaned. "I'm still grounded. And I'm stuck looking like this the whole summer," I said as I plucked at my short skirt.
"Yeesh. Well, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, I guess," he said. "Good luck with that."
"Thanks."
He made a small but guttural little grumble that was decidedly more Prodigy than Marty. "Still, after you get all dolled up, why don't you swing by, anyway."
I looked at him uncertainly. "Come again?"
"You can tell your folks that we have a permissive dress code," he said with a smirk. "Besides, your, ah, 'special duty' uniform already has a skirt."
My mind raced. The thought of running around in dresses all summer gave me stomach cramps, and there was no way I was going to live that down, especially if I was running off to my "internship" all prettied up every day. I chewed on my lip self-consciously as I mulled it over, a little affectation I'd picked up from my time as Prodigious Girl.
"Do I get to drive the car?"
"Not a chance," he said emphatically. Then, seeing my dejected face, he made another little grumble. "Although...maybe you could drive the motorcycle."
"There's a motorcycle?"
"Shh!"
I squealed girlishly and threw my arms around him. His whole body stiffened up in my arms, and I glanced up to see Marty Maddox looking down at me with a look of disdain that was all Prodigy. As I suddenly realized what I was doing, I quickly released him and tried to regain some small measure of decorum. Then I glanced down at myself in my dress and broke into another smile. "Eh, when in Rome," I said with a shrug.
He just rolled his eyes, but I was too excited to care. I ran into the house gleefully, leaving my flummoxed mentor standing there on the front porch.
"Mom! Dad! Would it be okay if I got an after-school job?"
And that's how it came to pass that the next day I found myself downtown in the AGON Technologies building standing nervously in my dress as I started my first day as an intern working alongside the original sidekick, Marty Maddox. If he had a little gleam in his eye as he looked me over when I introduced myself to him as Christie Patterson, nobody seemed to notice. Although—like everybody else—he did make a polite comment about the unusual flowering plant I kept on my desk, saying that he supposed the place needed some color, anyway.
Just as he turned to leave, I said, "Oh, Mr. Maddox! I had a chance to read up on the name of your company. I thought it was interesting."
He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, apparently some people think 'AGON' is an acronym. But it means conflict."
"Actually," I said brightly as he bristled just slightly, "I read that it could also mean a philosophical debate between two contrasting views. Like order and chaos, old age and youth, even cynicism and idealism."
"Mmm," he intoned flatly. "Or male and female?" he asked pointedly.
I hesitated a moment before responding. "I would suppose so," I said.
"I'm sure. Well then, welcome to AGON, Miss Patterson," Marty said before leaving.
* * * * *
I flew over the city to do a quick patrol and paused to land on a short building and admire the sparkling skyline laid out in front of me. I smiled as I felt the wind blow dramatically through my cape and hair and I made a wry grin as it tickled the edge of my skirt playfully. I wasn't sure when that had started to feel familiar.
There was the sound of a footstep behind me. "Daydreaming about finding a real man, Patterson?"
I spun around, ready for a fight. "Let me know when one shows up," I retorted. "Hey, Blaze. Saw you on the news. Congrats on all your hard work paying off. I'm a little surprised you didn't just shoot me in the back just now, though. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I just didn't think it'd look good for the newest member of the Liberty Squadron to pick a fight in public. Yeah, you heard that right. I'm working with Arcturus now," he boasted.
"Asshole, asshole," I muttered under my breath.
"Although seeing as how you're wanted by the authorities, I guess I could make an exception," he said as the weapons on his armored suit powered up.
"Blaze, I don't want to fight you."
"Smart move, Tits," he taunted.
"Dude, what the hell. You've got everything you ever wanted. You're famous..." My voice trailed off. "Huh. I guess that's all you wanted, wasn't it?"
"Oh, not everything. I still owe you a humiliating beatdown."
I sighed heavily. "Fine, have it your way. You want to go, let's go."
"Oh, there's no hurry. I know where you live, Patterson."
"I don't—"
Just then from down on the street we heard a young guy's voice shout, "Oh, hey! Prodigious Girl! You're the best!"
We both paused to look and saw what at first seemed to be a buxom blonde teenage girl in a short flowered dress. Then "she" called up in the same teen male voice as before, "Big fan!"
"Thank you!" I called back with a wave.
Blaze did a confused double-take as he looked down in the street, and then back at me, and then back to the street.
I looked at him inquisitively. "Friend of yours?"
He seemed perplexed. "I thought... You're not...?" he started before taking on a more aggressive stance. "Oh, this isn't over, bitch."
"You know, there's plenty of gender-neutral insults..." I complained. "But hey, no need to be jealous. It looks like you've got a little fan of your own, there," I said as I pointed at him.
Confused, Blaze turned his head and saw the colorful butterfly sitting on his shoulder that was calmly flapping its delicate wings.
"EEEEEK!" he shrieked in terror. His jetpack roared to life and he took off into the sky like a shot.
I smiled to myself and enjoyed the sight of his retreating form before I flew down and landed gently on the ground next to my blonde groupie.
"You look good," I said, making no effort to hide my smirk.
"Wow, I get what you mean about these stupid shoes," Caleb responded as he teetered on his heels. "Skirt's kinda breezy, though. And these are sort of entertaining," he said as he gave his boobs a grope.
"Hey, not so grabby!" I hissed. "People think you're me, remember? My reputation is lousy enough without everyone thinking I walk around feeling myself up all day."
"Might be fun," he grinned before he peered over my shoulder towards the roof. "I guess you're in the clear?"
"Yeah," I said. "Thanks again. I guess I should probably..." I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb as if to leave.
"Um—!"
"What's wrong?" I asked, slightly worried. He looked nervous and awkward. Caleb never looked nervous and awkward.
"Well, it's just...I was..." He sighed and looked at me. "I was wondering what it was like." He glanced up towards the sky.
As I looked at him, my mouth dropped open slightly. All those times he'd seen me like this, all that time we'd spent together, and I'd never taken him flying. I'd never even thought to ask.
I reached down and swept him off his feet as he draped his arms around my neck. "Okay, hold on ti—"
I stopped as I felt his jutting falsies pressed firmly up against my chest. "Maybe a little less tightly," I warned him.
"Sorry."
"And, uh, you might want to hold on to your skirt for takeoff," I told him. "There's kind of an updraft."
I launched us up into the air speeding towards the heavens as Caleb clung to me and gave an excited shout. As I felt the rush of the wind and saw the look of sheer joy on his face, I realized that was what had been missing with the older superheroes...they'd gotten used to it. They'd taken the impossible and made it mundane. I felt sorry for them.
I knew that being a superhero was difficult and dangerous. It was serious work with lives often on the line, and in the years to come I would face many challenges and threats. I would also lose very dear friends. But as I look back on it now and think about that flight over the city, I never lose my sense of wonder. It's funny, but I've no clear recollection of the first time I flew by myself, even though I'm sure it was amazing and magical. But I can remember every second of that flight with Caleb. Maybe it's just because it meant more having someone to share it with.
People still ask me why I decided to stay as Prodigious Girl when it would have been so easy to ditch the name and do something more serious, more traditional. And I always tell them the same thing: "It just felt right." And years later when my mentor did—finally!—retire, I took up the mantle of Prodigy because that, too, felt right. And while he wasn't entirely happy with my changes to the costume, what can I say? Old habits die hard!
Maybe it's my destiny to be remembered for my figure first and my heroics second, but I think my time flying a mile in Prodigious Girl's boots taught me things I probably wouldn't have learned if I'd fought crime as Captain Paradox or Adventure Man. (Both of whom went on to have long and distinguished careers! Go, Knights Errant!) And to the new heroes, I've tried to pass on some of what I've learned. Like courage. Compassion. Humor. Tolerance. Friendship.
And wonder. Always wonder.
THE END
Hey, everyone! Well, I really hope you enjoyed the story. It's been a labor of love! So I've got one last little behind-the-scenes feature to leave you with, but before we start, an important note of warning if you haven't read the rest of the story: HERE THERE BE SPOILERS. Consider yourself warned!
* * * * * EASTER EGGS AND INSIDE JOKES * * * * *
Easter Eggs - TG Heroines
I always like to include little Easter eggs and in-jokes in my stories, but this time I went a little crazy! First, I included a lot of subtle little references to several other TG comic book heroines:
Easter Eggs - City of Heroes
Players of the old City of Heroes game probably noticed some references, too. I intentionally didn't set the story in Paragon City but I couldn't resist including some in-jokes:
What's in a Name?
The story has a fair bit of symbolism and foreshadowing but I'd rather not go into that too much since I can't think of a way to go into that without sounding totally pretentious and snooty. (And I also don't want to give away my entire playbook!) However, one sly little nod I included was that the meaning of almost all of the main characters is evocative of their role in the story:
Character Voice (Are You F—ing Kidding Me?)
When writing it's often an interesting challenge to lock down the characters' speech patterns, but this story was especially tricky since Chris has three voices: a teenage guy, Prodigious Girl, and the "future Chris" who narrates the story. I tried to make the three voices a little different (and sometimes the voices would evolve, for instance to subtly show Chris becoming more comfortable as Christie) but I also wanted to make sure they all sounded like the same character.
However, swearing actually had a funny role in the story. One little idiosyncrasy I incorporated was that Chris starts to swear more the longer he hangs out with the hilariously profane Prodigy, and the "future Chris" narrator even more, suggesting that Chris has picked up on some of Prodigy's bad habits. (Amusingly, the one character who seems to swear more than Prodigy is Bhramari, but since she uses sign language it isn't always as evident.)
* * * * * CHARACTER WRITEUPS * * * * *
When I started working with the artists I put together a booklet that provided descriptions of all the main characters. I gave Fraylim and Splutt a good bit of latitude to interpret things as they liked, but I used the old City of Heroes costume creator to mock up some ideas so they'd have something to work with. Here you can see my character writeups along with some notes about how they evolved, production sketches, and unused artwork!
PRODIGIOUS GIRL
Secret Identity: Christopher "Chris" PattersonAppearance as Prodigious Girl
Hair: BlackAs Prodigious Girl, Chris shapeshifts into a female form and is for all intents and purposes, a teenage girl. She has long black hair and wears a mask. Her costume uses the same color palette as Prodigy, consisting of dark blues or purples with silver highlights and has a short cape and miniskirt, rather like the classic Supergirl cheerleader-style miniskirt. She wears thigh-high boots that have a wedge heel and has a utility belt.
As her name suggests, Prodigious Girl is busty, rather like Power Girl in the comics...big and noticeable, but not cartoonishly so. She's still a teenager, but her physique leads many people to think she's older. Like Power Girl, she has a "boob window" in her costume that shows off her cleavage. I don't specify the shape of that window, but doing it in a diamond shape might differentiate her a bit from Power Girl.
Design Notes: PG changed the most from my original design. As you can see I'd originally imagined her as a bit more tactical-looking heroine with a functional utility belt in keeping with the tone of these being heroes in the "real world." However, Fraylim's designs gave her a more Silver Age look, which I realized fit well with the character's more optimistic view, as well as her somewhat naive view of heroes at the beginning of the story.
Oh, and a few times in the story we're treated to some "alternate" versions of PG, such as PG's initial costume design (as designed by Caleb at the CosFab facility), "Voluptua," and "Magically Endowed Prodigious Power Princess." None of those were in the original story—Fraylim actually made those on his own just for fun, to which my response was, "Oh, these are absolutely gonna go in the story somewhere." I then tweaked the story to incorporate the three pieces, which amusingly were all attributed to Caleb's overactive imagination.
Appearance as Chris Patterson
Hair: Black
Chris is a fairly average sixteen-year-old guy, self-described as a "late bloomer." He's geeky and probably slight of frame, not puny but certainly not athletic.
Design Notes: My original design called for Chris to have brown hair to differentiate his look from both PG as a brunette and Carly as a blonde, but Fraylim suggested that Chris instead have black hair like PG, which I thought made a fun parallel between the two. That proved to be a bit ironic since you very seldom see Chris as a guy in the story artwork!
Appearance as "Carly"
Hair: Blonde (wig)
"Carly" is a pseudonym that Prodigious Girl makes up when Prodigy wants to meet her in her secret identity. Physically she's identical to Prodigious Girl except wears a long blonde wig—the same wig Chris will wear later as "Christie"—and civilian clothes. (Notably as Carly she wears a flowered mini dress that belongs to Caleb's sister which Chris will end up having to wear as "Christie.")
Appearance as "Christie" Patterson
Hair: Blonde (wig)
"Christie" (a name Chris adopts at the end of the story) is Chris when he's crossdressed. Appearance-wise, this is Chris in a dress, wearing the same blonde wig that he wears as Carly. Since his mother discovered his cache of brassieres that were sized to fit Carly (i.e. Prodigious Girl's size), she has insisted that he wear them while dressed and purchased breast forms of that same size. So when he's crossdressed, Chris has the same size chest that he does as Prodigious Girl, though these are falsies instead of real breasts.
Per his parents' stipulation, when dressed as a girl Chris has to wear dresses and skirts, so no pants. (Apart from one notable exception in a scene with his mother when he wears jeans.) The flowered dress he gets from Caleb's sister should be particularly girly, but most of his other outfits can be more age-appropriate.
As Christie, Chris is particularly embarrassed by the size of his chest, and makes efforts to distract from his bosom by wearing girls' jackets or cardigan tops in the story. However, from an art perspective it may be more fun to show them off a bit more. :)
From a visual design perspective it's a question how feminine Chris should look as Christie. In the story, many people don't seem to realize that he's not really a girl, and considering that he's a slight teenager who's fumbling with makeup he may look just like a teenage girl. (Albeit well-endowed for her age.) Given that, it might make sense to signal Chris's real gender to the reader by things like chagrined facial expressions or awkward posture or body language.
Design Notes: As you can see, hitting the right mark for Chris's look en femme was an interesting challenge, but I think both artists did a great job! One design element that Splutt incorporated was that Chris's eyebrows remain the same in both modes, so they're a bit heavy for a girl. (And I couldn't resist having Caleb make that observation in the story.)
Appearance as "Valor"
Hair: Blond
Chris only wears this costume once early in the story during his ill-fated visit to Superhero Registration, and this initial male hero form isn't described very specifically. Physically it's an idealized form of Chris who's taller and more muscular and with blond hair, but still a teenager. The costume has a cape and it's implied that he's perhaps subconsciously imitating his idol, Promethean, which would suggest a white, red, and gold color scheme.
The costume should be fairly generic to accommodate the fact that Chris gets away with trying lots of different names, but it can be pretty forgettable since we only see it once in the story.
Design Notes: Or not at all, until now. :)
CALEB SHAPIRO
Age: 16
Caleb is never clearly described in the story. The only thing we know about him for sure is that at the very end of the story he impersonates Christie, suggesting that he and Chris have must have a passing physical resemblance when viewed from a significant distance. Mentally I kind of had him pegged as a Jay Baruchel type. He's a total geek but fascinated with girls and is quick with a smile.
Design Notes: Working with two artists sometimes presented some interesting challenges since sometimes one would get to a character before the other and establish the visual design first. In this case, Splutt got there first so in the color pics here you can see a slightly different design that Fraylim had in mind for Caleb. I thought it was a nice touch that Caleb's feminine impersonation at the end of the story isn't as polished as Chris's, but Splutt's version had was closer to the tone that I was going for. (I also thought also made it a little easier to believe that Blaze could mistake Caleb for Chris en femme!)
Funny coincidences did happen, though. When outlining the "PG flies with Caleb in a dress" pic I'm pretty sure I mentioned to both artists that having Caleb hold on to his wig might allow them to let the male Caleb peek through, but amusingly both artists independently came up with the idea of one of his high heels dangling off his foot! Too funny!
PRODIGY
Secret ID: Marty Maddox
Age: 52 (appears late 60s or older as Prodigy)
We meet Prodigy both in hero mode and his secret identity, though this isn't revealed until the very end of the story. He's intentionally made the two identities very different from each other, both in looks and personality. It's left as an exercise for the reader to wonder which is closer to his "real" personality, though it's implied that he's probably closer to Prodigy in temperament, but maybe a closet idealist—though you'd never get him to admit it!
Appearance as Prodigy
Hair: White (toupee)
Prodigy appears 15+ years older than he actually is, using special effects type makeup to appear to be a man in his late 60s (or older)...think of an aging action hero like Arnold Schwarzenegger or Harrison Ford. He has short white hair (later revealed to be a toupee) and is very pragmatic in his costume design. It's described as tactical body armor, and since he uses gadgets he probably has a utility belt, bandolier, and other places to store them. The costume favors dark colors like midnight blues or purples with silver highlights, a color scheme that Prodigious Girl has designed her costume to match.
Personality-wise, Prodigy is a complete dick and is highly derisive of Prodigious Girl. He always seems to have a disapproving look or scowl on his face.
Design Notes: Sometimes I mentally cast actors to play these parts since it helps to give them a unique voice but I don't often share my casting choices since I want readers to invent the characters in their own minds. However, after reading the story one of my friends said that she imagined Prodigy as a gruff Michael Keaton, like in Birdman. I thought that was terrific!
Appearance as Marty Maddox
Hair: Balding; maybe a comb-over
As Marty, he looks and acts completely different from Prodigy. He's a public figure having first been a superhero "mascot" of sorts when he was a teenager (like a Snapper Carr or Rick Jones), and is now the owner of AGON Technologies. He's balding or with a comb-over, and wears padding and makeup to suggest a dumpy, overweight middle-aged man who's given up exercising. He's a nebbishy type with an easy smile that lures people in and keeps them off their guard. He's not directly involved with heroes anymore, although his company aids them in an unspecified way, perhaps with new technology. He portrays himself as a nerdy herophile, for instance joking that to become a hero he'd have to lose a few pounds to get his gut into a girdle of power armor.
Design Notes: I went back and forth about including artwork with Marty—one of my friends said she'd love to see the picture of Marty and PG having lunch on the rooftop while she bitches about Prodigy—but I finally decided that doing so would draw too much attention to him and I wanted to try and keep his true identity a surprise for the ending. However, one little hint I dropped was that every time PG meets with Marty he subtly tries to convince her to quit being a hero, which of course was also the big unveil behind Prodigy's motivations. So in both identities he's trying to rescue young heroes by convincing them to quit before they get themselves killed.
Appearance as "Candy Scrapper"
To sneak into the Sanctuary, Prodigy uses Harridan's magical Morphex crystal pendant to temporarily change himself into a cute blonde heroine with the moniker Candy Scrapper. As such, he appears to be a perky and diminutive blonde teenage heroine dressed in a pink leather jumpsuit and utility belt with baby blue highlights. (Prodigy complains that he looks like "Tactical Barbie.") While so transformed, he's short (shorter than PG or Trixie) and cute, resembling in many ways a perky teen girl dressed up for Halloween as her favorite superhero than an actual heroine to be taken seriously.
Design Notes: For a silly one-off joke, Candy Scrapper went through a lot of design iterations! My original design was mostly black in order to more closely resemble Harridan's design, because it was her disguise and I'd initially toyed with the idea of having "Candy Scrapper" make a small little cameo or casually appear in the background in the Sanctuary before she was revealed to be Harridan in disguise. But once it became clear that the design's only purpose was to humiliate Prodigy, I abandoned all pretense and went for the pink and baby blue design. As you can see, Fraylim did some initial artwork for my design but then he also came up with the "wouldn't it be fun" skanky clubwear version. But as soon as I saw that, I knew we had a winner and I changed the story to reflect the new design!
ENCHANTRIX ("Trixie")
Secret ID: Renata "Ren" Blackwood
Age: ~16-17
Hair: Platinum blonde
Trixie is described as wearing a silky black tunic top covered with sparkly magic runes over dark red tights and wears a cape. Unusually for a hero she doesn't wear a mask, which is a bit of a fakeout because she actually harbors one of the biggest secrets in the story.
Trixie has a playful sense of humor and enjoys teasing her friends, but she also a fairly quick temper that suggests a bit of a dark side. Her colors should probably be dark to foreshadow this a bit.
Design Notes: One of my big regrets is that we never really get a good look at Trixie in the artwork, but I couldn't bring myself to hold up publication any longer for the extra art. My rough concept for her was something like tights and a fancy cape to give her a bit of a teenage Doctor Strange vibe, befitting her role as a sorceress.
BHRAMARI ("Mari")
Age: ~16
Hair: Black
Another one of the teenage heroes, Bhramari as her name suggests is of Indian descent, and has dark skin and dark hair. Deaf and mute since birth she has the ability to control and communicate with insects, and is almost never seen without a few around her since she can she can perceive what they see and hear, which allows her to hear after a fashion. She normally "speaks" through sign language, in which Enchantrix seems fluent and Prodigious Girl knows enough to get by.
Her costume isn't described in the story, but since she's named herself after an Indian goddess who controls insects, I'm thinking a bit of an Indian flair would be appropriate, maybe with a robe or sash. Her colors might be black and yellow to suggest a subtle honeybee design.
Design Notes: I really loved the idea of having a hero who was amazing at surveillance but not traditionally useful when the shooting started, but who still constantly looks for ways to help out her teammates with distractions even if she didn't land the big punch. I knew Blaze would be highly dismissive of such a hero which is why I wanted Mari to get her crowning moment of awesome at the end of the story when she's the one to take him down.
DEMETRIA VALASELLIS
Age: ~50
Hair: Black
Demetria is of Greek descent with coal-black hair and is the mother figure of this story. I envision her rather like Wonder Woman's mother Hippolyta...a woman who was probably a stunning beauty in her time, but now with age while still attractive has seen her beauty replaced with some knowing wisdom. Demetria is graceful and confident but with a relaxed style and wry sense of humor. Being an empath she's very attuned to others' emotional states and may reflect them herself.
Design Notes: I specifically wanted to avoid artwork for Demetria since I describe her at some length in the story but more by her natural charisma than her physical appearance, and I wanted the readers to fill in the rest for themselves.
Oddly for an antagonist, she only appears once fairly early on (in Chapter 4) before being revealed in Chapter 8 as the bad guy, so I knew I had to make a huge and very positive impression to divert attention from her. But the nice thing was that Demetria was being very genuine in that earlier encounter, which I think helped sell it. However, in very subtle ways, I dropped hints that she was consciously or unconsciously affecting the emotions of people around her. For instance, that first argument Chris and Caleb have (after Demetria gives PG the thumb drive) Chris gets into a snippy little tiff with Caleb. That argument serves a few narrative purposes in the story but it was also a very subtle hint that Chris got emotionally worked up and argued to defend Demetria—a woman he barely knew—to Caleb, immediately after having come from seeing her, a woman who is able to control emotions! Whether she used her powers to instill that loyalty in PG intentionally (or at all) I left as an open question, but I put that in as a sneaky little hint that she maybe wasn't all she appeared.
HARRIDAN
Hair: Brown
Harridan is Demetria's main enforcer. A highly dangerous fighter, she's a trained warrior and as lethal as she is cocky. In the story it's unclear if she has any metahuman powers (though she takes a punch extremely well), but she uses technology as her main edge in combat. In the story she's described as having short brown hair with black polykinetic body armor with a red utility belt and pistol. Her primary weapon is her quantum blade, a razor-sharp sword that has red energy that licks along the edge and allows it to cut through seemingly anything. On her wrist she has a device that allows her to project a 2 1/2 foot shield of red energy, and on her belt is a device that allows her to open up rifts through which she can teleport.
Her appearance is a bit of an in-joke since I've made lots of subtle references to various transgender heroines all throughout the story. Harridan is my nod to Sir Tristan, the transgender knight from Camelot 3000. Her appearance doesn't have to be spot-on for Tristan, but the short styled brown hair is a must.
Design Notes: I was sorry we didn't get to see Harridan in the story art, but she was a fun character to write, sort of the antithesis of Demetria's more Earth Mother role. I was also a little sorry we didn't get to see a proper stand-up fight with Harridan but PG and Trixie's sneak attack was a lot of fun. (However, a friend and I are drafting a spinoff story with mostly new characters, and I've suggested that it would make sense for Harridan to show up. So we might get that stand-up fight yet!)
HEATHER PATTERSON (Chris's Mom)
Age: ~40
Hair: Dark Brown
Heather is Chris's mother. She isn't described in the story, although I think making her a brunette will contrast well with Chris since he'll be wearing a blonde wig as Christie. I envision her as an Angie Harmon type, more of a classic beauty with long dark brown hair. Later for the scene in Chris's bedroom she may have it pulled back in a ponytail. Style-wise she'd tend towards the causal side of fashionable, favoring blouses and slacks over dresses and skirts.
KILLBANE / BLAMESTORM
Secret ID: Derek Morrow
Age: ~16
Hair: Black
Killbane isn't described in detail in the story apart from noting his "hellfire blasts" which he can not only project but also use to engulf his entire body. The flames apparently change color as they get hotter, which may suggest they can change according to his mood.
His costumes as Killbane and Blamestorm are apparently different, but never really described except to say that they have masks and his Blamestorm costume is in "black and dark reds." It's unlikely that either costume has a cape.
In his secret identity, Derek apparently goes to school with Chris and his jet-black hair is worn in a loose, rebellious style, and he has a silver stud earring in one ear that has a little nick taken out of it.
KILLDOZER / VIRIDIAN
Secret ID: Dominic "Dom" Morrow
Age: ~40
Killdozer is described in even less detail than his son Killbane, except to note that he's a big guy and very heavily muscled. He has powers of strength and invulnerability that are demonstrably greater than Prodigious Girl's.
We know his costumes as Killdozer and Viridian are different, but without specifics, although both seem to show off his muscular physique. His costume as Viridian is blue-green and has a cowl. As with his son, it's unlikely that either costume has a cape.
Design Notes: Sometimes the art changed the story. Originally Killdozer and Killbane were brothers, but when Fraylim provided this and the other picture of Killdozer, it was obvious he was an adult. I decided that could actually work better for the story as then Killdozer would actually be the father, fated to kill his wife and son when he went mad, which was even more chilling and fit better with the theme of the story regarding PG's issues with her mentors.
NYMPHOBRAINIAC
Secret Identity: Clayton Kingsley
Hair: Blonde
Nymphobrainiac is a character who appeared in her earlier eponymous companion story to Identity Crisis. She appears to wear a skimpy techno "battle bikini," a patently ridiculous bit of armor where the bubble design does more to accentuate her boobs and butt than it does to provide her any protection. On her head she was wears a clear visor with an antenna on one side that does nothing to hide her pretty and heavily made-up face. (We would later learn this "bubble armor" is a ruse and her entire female "body" is actually biotech armor, so even the parts of her that appear unprotected are in fact part of her armor.)
In the story we see she's also carrying some kind of energy weapon to supplement her powers of strength and invulnerability that she derives from the armor.
Nymphobrainiac is always accompanied by her poodle, Tiara. Tiara is a large standard poodle (not one of the little toy poodles) who like her name suggests wears a sparkling tiara on her head. She also wears a little pink cape that is attached to the collar that has her name on it.
Design Notes: Fraylim did a great job of skanking up Nymphy's costume, and it was fun to get a chance to use her from the earlier short story. I intentionally wrote that story to be in the same universe, but I thought it would just be a throwaway until I realized I needed a villain for a scene and figured a cameo appearance was in order. (It also makes the scene where she and PG are wrestling on the ground funnier when you realize that both characters are male and pretending to be female.) Fraylim made a few changes to the designs, most notably to give extra room in Tiara's poodle legs to potentially hide an adult male because he wasn't quite as cruel as I was...
PROMETHEAN
Hair: Blond
Promethean is the like the Superman of this story, with many of the same powers—flight, strength, invulnerability, heat vision, and telescopic vision that we know of. By all outward appearances he's the bright, shining hero, although Prodigious Girl quickly learns that looks can be deceiving.
Appearance-wise he should be the exact opposite of Prodigy. Promethean is a stunning physical specimen, tall and muscular in the prime of his life with long styled blond hair, and a color palette in white, red, and gold (in sharp contrast to Prodigy's darker colors). Since Chris idolizes Promethean, his first attempt at a (male) superhero costume is probably very evocative of Promethean's look, which is a bit of foreshadowing.
Unlike the other supers who often use body armor in their costumes, Promethean should be more a traditional spandex-like costume, silent testimony to his overconfidence and arrogance. However, there may be little high-tech touches on his costume like on his gloves, wristbands, or belt to suggest the advanced technology he has access to.
Design Notes: The artists really ran with this. One of my favorite accidental bonuses from the art was in the piece that Splutt did where PG sees Promethean and goes totally fangirl over him. I'd described the scene to Splutt in some detail but I'd just assumed Promethean would be standing there so it caught me off guard when the initial sketches had him flying. However, as soon as I saw it, I realized it was so much better since it was a subtle nod to his arrogance that he was quite literally looking down on her!
With Fraylim, over there on the right you can see his alternate rough design for the romance cover concept. Like the one I used in the story, I thought it was completely awesome but I went back and forth whether it was appropriate to include it seeing as how Promethean attempts to force himself on PG in the story. The assault occurred in Chapter 7 (the darkest of the chapters thematically) so I knew that would be a pretty tasteless place to put it. So instead I worked it in at the beginning of Chapter 6 where she first meets him and where it would be funny at the time and rather unsettling in retrospect...
PROMETHEAN'S COSTUME DESIGN FOR PRODIGIOUS GIRL
Design Notes: For that ungodly slutty costume that Promethean designs for PG, I scoured the Internet for the most inappropriate superhero costumes I could find to inspire the artists, which I'd just as soon not share here. (Moondragon, I'm looking at you.) My direction to the artists was that it had to be so horrifically inappropriate that there would be absolutely no question that PG would ever actually wear it. Splutt did a great job running with a rough concept I worked out, but here you can see one of Fraylim's earlier attempts. It's good, but I rejected it because I could imagine her maybe wearing it (it has a bit of a Phantom Lady vibe, I think), so while it was inappropriate, it wasn't inappropriate enough. :)
Splutt did the final artwork in the story and he was the one to suggest using a holographic image instead of the high-tech mannequin that I'd originally suggested in the story. I thought that was a terrific idea since it reinforced the idea that Promethean's little getaway had really high-tech gizmos, but I didn't make the connection at the time that the hologram would of course look like PG actually wearing the costume! My first thought when I saw it was, "Yikes, this makes me feel kind of uncomfortable. It's perfect."
QUASARBLAZE ("Blaze")
Secret ID: Ashton "Ash" Raleigh
Age: 16
Appearance as Quasarblaze
Quasarblaze is Prodigious Girl's opposite number and cautionary tale in the story, essentially the kind of hero Chris might have become: flashy, image-obsessed, and obnoxiously male. I suggest that his super power has something to do with an affinity for technology, so he wears powered armor as kind of Iron Man lite. Early in the story he wears a protective armored costume that has a techno helmet that has a visor so we get to see the lower part of his face, which is useful for seeing some facial reactions.
I don't think I ever specify his color scheme in the story but since PG follows Prodigy's design of dark blues and purples with a silver highlight, it might make sense for Blaze to be more yellows with red highlights. We'll need to be careful that doesn't draw too many comparisons to Iron Man, but his outfit should be desperately flashy.
Appearance as Ash
Chris encounters Ash a few times in the story. Ash's appearance is never described, but he's a pretty standard bully type, so should be somewhat bigger than Chris. However, Ash usually keeps a couple guys around for muscle, like his buddy Wade (a.k.a. Triggerhappy), so Ash may not himself be a really heavily-muscled guy...just a vicious and ruthless teen with a bad attitude and a huge chip on his shoulder.
In the story I mention the fact that Ash comes from money so if we see him he might wear more stylish clothes than the average teen just to remind everyone that he's better off than the rest of them.
Appearance at end of story
In the climax of the story Quasarblaze wears a more heavily-armed full suit of armor, rather like Iron Man. Unlike his first costume, he should be sealed up tight in his armor with no visible skin.
STARBRITE
Secret ID: Danica Valasellis
Age: ~16 (at time of death)
Hair: Black
Starbrite doesn't directly appear in the story, having died several years earlier. However, she's included here because a fountain with her life-size statue appears in Demetria's garden, which is the scene for a few key events in the story. Prodigious Girl is said to bear more than just a passing resemblance to Starbrite.
TRIGGERHAPPY
Secret ID: Wade McGrath
Age: 16
Appearance as Triggerhappy
Much like his buddy Quasarblaze, Triggerhappy seems to rely on technology and gadgets to get the job done. It's never made clear if he made the gadgets or acquired them in some way (perhaps constructed or purchased by Blaze), but he seems to be familiar enough with their maintenance and operation.
His costume serves as body armor and protects him from some degree of damage, and he has an apparent small arsenal of weapons and gadgets, including his energy rifle, force bubble grenades, and tangle grenades, which he keeps in various pockets and pouches on his costume.
The costume's color scheme is never specified, but something in greens or camouflage might make sense to reinforce the fact that he serves as Blaze's footsoldier in the story.
Appearance as Wade
Wade appears in the story as himself a couple of times, primarily acting as Ash's wingman as they bully kids in school. His appearance is never clearly specified, but seems to be bigger than Ash and more of the muscle to Ash's brains, maybe like a wrestler or football player.
* * * * * PRODUCTION ART * * * * *
Alternate Views of Scenes
When I was working with Splutt on developing artwork for a scene he would start the process by providing me with two different rough sketches based on the description I sent. I would then choose one and provide feedback as we went. Here you can see some of the alternate versions of the art that ended up in the story. Sometimes I had a lot of trouble choosing!
* * * * * CLOSING THOUGHTS * * * * *
Well, that's everything! I really hope you all really enjoyed the story and this little behind-the-scenes view. But for those who want more, here's a peek into possible coming attractions...
What's coming in the world of Identity Crisis?
Longer term, no promises, but I've got a few ideas brewing...
(Also, the bad news is that I tend to write in spurts during the year when I'm not working on my cosplay. I have too many hobbies!)
Will the new stories have the artwork?
Mmm...maaaaybe? I dearly love the artwork too, but this much art was expensive and took a lot of time. This story included over three dozen pieces of art and I don't think you're likely to see me do anything nearly that ambitious again, because Oh My God. However, a few pieces here and there I would absolutely be willing to do again. So, fingers crossed!
In the meantime, here are a couple pics of the author, first with a custom Prodigious Girl figure my friend Sabrina Pandora made for me—because that is awesome!—and another where I'm modeling one of Chris's fashions from the story. Also, Sabrina is working on a Prodigious Girl costume and I'm planning on making one myself, so hopefully we'll have more prodigious pics to share!
Thanks for reading!