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elizabeth.myfastforum.org
An archive of my AB/DL stories.
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Elizabeth
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Joined: 30 Dec 2007
Posts: 172
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 Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2007 2:00 am Post subject: Bygones Halloween Special |
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Bygones Halloween Special
$2.99
A Note From the Editor:
Welcome, dear readers!
Are you all snug at home, after a fearsome night of trick or treating? Are you preparing to get all hopped up on sugar? Well, we don't have any more candy to offer you, but we do have not only the conclusion of the Masquerade story, but also a story seen before only in the Short Story Contest of 2007, Death of a Superhero!
What, is that not enough for you? Still looking for more? Then I guess we'll just throw in a brand new, never before seen story, Croatoa! Enjoy, true believers, and Happy Halloween! Try not to get any cavities!
Masquerade
1
A crash of thunder would have been more dramatic, certainly, but the sky was clear and bright, the air crisp. Not too hot, not too cold, just the temperature she loved. She could wear a coat comfortably, yet if she didn't feel like it, she could live without it, if she hadn't just bought a cute new one that she wanted to show off. She'd outgrown last year's coat sometime over the summer with what would probably be her last growth spurt, no matter how much she'd have liked one last push, to get her out of the high end of normal to straight up tall(ish).
That was why she'd walked home from work that afternoon, or, rather, why she'd walked to work that morning, leaving her clanking old car on the street in front of her house. It hadn't been an easy decision - it was the right time of year for driving with the windows down as well - but all in all, she was pleased with the choice she'd made.
Halloween decorations had been up for a couple weeks now, though some of the houses had added a few last minute touches. Even so, she still enjoyed looking, the beautiful weather, and the fact that it was Halloween day, giving her fresh eyes to view them with. There were only a few trick-or-treaters out, very young, getting their fill of candy before they got put to bed, but those were, of course, the cutest.
She was taking her time, just soaking in every moment, minding her own business, unless a toddler toddled too close to her, at which point she felt obliged to let its parents know just how cute it was. None had seemed particularly surprised at the news, but grateful for the reminder.
It was, she thought to herself, the best day she'd had in a very long time.
Which brought her to the distinct lack of dramatic emphasis that a bit of thunder would have added. Instead, the feeling of a dead leaf falling onto her cheek, brushing along her skin before tangling briefly in her bleached blonde hair, allowed her to wake up slowly, having to blink a few times before the open window above her came into focus.
It was a very nice window, and a very nice old tree, branches mostly bare, was waving in the wind and moonlight outside of it. None of those things, however, were in her own house, or her own yard.
She let out a gasp of surprise, wracking her brain for a memory that might explain what in the world had happened for her to end up here, wherever that may be. The sound came out a bit muffled, and she reached up to her face quickly, found it to be covered by something that takes her a moment to recognize as a mask. She is no stranger to masks, but this one was definitely not hers.
"Ah, you're awake, finally," it said.
"What... Who... What are you?!" she demanded, snatching her fingers away from the mask. "Where am I?!" This was one of those situations, she figured, where it was okay to give in to her fear, and even exaggerate it a little bit. That sort of thing could keep villains off guard, just so long as she managed to keep that fear contained in her voice, rather than letting it spread through to the rest of her body.
"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about that." She couldn't tell if this was an established villain, disguising their voice, or someone new. Hell, she couldn't even tell if it was male or female!
"Well, what do you want?" she demanded.
But all the voice from inside the mask would say was, "We'll talk downstairs."
"Just..." she started, before giving up to save herself some trouble. If it wanted her to do something, chances were good it wasn't going to cooperate until it got its wish. That was the way these sorts of things tended to work, in her experience. At least she wasn't locked up in one room.
Speaking of which, she decided, it was high time to figure out where she was. So far, she had only seen the window, having been distracted before she could take a look around. Once she did, however, it took her only a moment to realize she was in the bathroom. A much larger, fancier bathroom than she'd ever set foot in before, but a bathroom nonetheless, which she would shortly discover was quite ironic, as she got to her feet to walk over to a mirror.
As soon as she began to stand, she knew something was off. Her legs - her agile, powerful legs from which she'd gotten her name - felt off balance, just plain wrong, forced apart by something strange and thick. She glanced down quickly, to see what was going on there, before waddling over to the mirror to confirm it. Even then, she could hardly believe it, but, unfortunately, she was pretty sure she just had to trust her senses at that point.
Her captor apparently considered him/herself amusing. "Yeah, that's cute," she growled at that mask. "I see what you did there."
She, White Rabbit as the world at large knew her, was the youngest member of the Squadron of Light. Youngest ever, to be precise, though to be even more precise, it was more like she was going to be that. She was all but a full blown member, however, and she'd been on quite a few missions with them, even though she'd been relegated to the sidelines for all but the most dire of them. She'd even been kidnapped a time or two before, although never out of costume before.
It was just the whole age thing that was keeping her from being a registered member, she was sure. The older members kept getting on her case, telling her she had to finish high school, had to get her degree, she couldn't just count on her powers to get her through life. She was pretty sure they'd stolen all their lines from a public service announcement, and she paid just as much attention. Not that she had dropped out of school or anything; she just didn't go as often as maybe she should.
It could also have been her parents' fault. They weren't even happy about her having her current, unofficial, sidekick spot on the team. They might have been actively keeping the team from officially accepting her, since that was probably the kind of thing she'd need parental consent for.
Whatever the specifics were, she knew she was still, essentially, the youngest member of the team, by quite a bit, and her unofficial status likely led to her being treated even more like a kid than she might otherwise be. Apparently, whoever her captor was also knew, and had decided to comment on, that.
While designing her costume, she had managed to stay away from the whole rabbit motif, thinking that would be a bit to obvious, instead focusing on the first part of her name. The kidnapper had gone the easier route.
The mask was mostly blank, which made it all the creepier to be looking at in place of her own face, with only her chocolate colored eyes showing through. There was a little pink nose painted in the center, however, as well as, obviously, the eye holes. It was topped with a pair of floppy ears. The front of her shirt was pink and fuzzy, though as she turned, she saw that the rest of it was white. It came down low enough to show off her belly button ring, which now sported a little carrot charm.
She could have lived with all that, really. Some of the earlier concepts for her costume, including the prototype she'd worn on her very first mission, hadn't been too far off from it. However, those had included skirt, or shorts - or both, briefly, after that rather embarassing initial adventure. That was not the case here.
Instead, below her shirt, and above a pair of admittedly cute bunny slippers, she was wearing a thick, cloth diaper, held closed by a pair of carrot-topped pins, and enclosed in a pair of clear plastic panties. When she had turned enough, she saw a little bunny tail at the back of the panties; closer examination showed that it was hiding a small lock.
There were plenty of members of the Squadron - all of them, probably - who could have broken it in an instant. Yet none of them were there. She trained, of course, but her real strength had never been, and would never be, in her arms. At least the plastic panties weren't secured to her tightly enough to be uncomfortable, though they were plenty tight enough to prevent her from pulling them off or getting to the diaper underneath.
There was no way she was going anywhere like that. Whoever the voice belonged to - and after seeing what had been done to her she really hoped it belonged to a girl, or a guy with a trusty henchwoman - was just a whole new level of crazy. The rest of the Squadron would be there soon enough to rescue her.
Not that she particularly relished the thought of them seeing her in a diaper, hiding helplessly in a bathroom. Gossamer, who was the closest to her age, would never let her hear the end of it. And as fond as Gossamer was of pranks, she was sure she'd be finding diapers in her locker for the next year, at least.
Unless, that is, she got kicked out entirely. They had to be getting just as tired of her playing the damsel in distress whenever some new villain wanted to provoke them as she was. At the moment, she wasn't really providing anything special to the team that would make them think twice about losing her. Young metahumans were popping up all over the place lately, and surely at least one of them would be a more useful sidekick than she was.
On the other hand... Maybe if she managed to get out of this and, with any luck, bag the bad guy herself, it would prove to whoever was keeping her from fully joining the team, whether that was her parents or the team itself, that she was ready.
That would have been a much more appealing thought if it didn't involve going anywhere in diapers, but ultimately, she gave in anyway. After all, she managed to convince herself, it wasn't like this person hadn't already seen her dressed this way. Probably had a camera set up somewhere in the bathroom, too. So what did it matter?
She walked over to the door, then returned to the mirror, telling herself she was trying to get used to moving while diapered. She took a couple trips around the bathroom, just to make sure, before finally opening the door.
It was much heavier than she expected, and, once she had gotten it open, the sudden rush of sound from outside nearly drove her back, but her curiosity got the better of her. She crept slowly forward, peeking out over the railing of the balcony the bathroom was resting on. There, beneath a gigantic chandelier, a huge mass of color was spinning and shifting, finally resolving itself into what seemed an almost endless sea of people.
"Screw this," she whispered, backing up. There was no way she was going out there.
At just about that same time, she heard a loud bang from behind her, which nearly gave her a heart attack as she spun around to see what it was, only to be faced with a closed and, no matter how hard she jiggled the knob, locked, bathroom door.
The sound echoed in her ears, long enough to keep her from noticing that all of the other noise had stopped, until she heard a voice, very proper and very British, announcing, "Ladies and gentlemen, young Miss White Rabbit."
She turned slowly, finding someone who appeared to be a masked butler standing at the head of a large staircase, leading down into the mass of people. She gave the doorknob one last tug. There were other doors along the wall, of course, but she highly doubted she'd have any more success with them.
She had a feeling the butler was waiting on her, and, having nowhere else to go, and certainly no better way of getting downstairs so that she could get to catching the owner of the voice in the mask, she sheepishly walked over to him.
As she reached the top of the staircase, the crowd below broke into thunderous applause, and she was actually glad for the mask, since it served to cover her reddening cheeks. At any other time she would have felt like royalty, but, as she stared down into the mob, masked faces turned upward, she couldn't help but feel so very, very small.
2
The applause quickly gave way to the din she'd heard upon first opening the door, the sound of a thousand conversations being carried on at once, while a group of musicians struggled to make themselves heard on top of it all. She stood at the top of the stairs, just watching, her legs refusing to move so that she could do anything else, for what felt like a long time before she felt a gentle hand on her back.
"Go ahead," the butler told her. "Don't dawdle up here all day."
The first step was the hardest. She wobbled a bit, had to grab the railing to keep from tumbling the rest of the way to the bottom floor. They'd all seen her already, she reminded herself. She couldn't take that back, so she might as well keep going, and hopefully figure out what was going on.
"Glad you could join us," the voice from the mask said, as she was nearly halfway down the stairs.
"I'm going to find you," she promised it. "And I am going to kick your ass."
"Do what you think you need to," it encouraged her. "You just gotta find me first, little girl."
"Didn't anyone ever tell you?" she growled. "Little girls are very good at hide and seek."
Apparently, on the other hand, they were -not- very good at keeping their footing, as, just as she reached the bottom of the staircase, her slippered feet practically flew out from under her, and she landed straight on her butt. It didn't hurt as much as she would've expected, if she'd had time to think about it, because of her new padding, but it still surprised her enough that it took her a few moments to get to her feet, during which time, the hall filled with the sound of laughter.
Once again, she was glad for the mask to keep the world from knowing how much she was blushing, and, to a smaller degree, how close she was to bursting into tears. Before she could succumb to the urge, a realization started to wash over her. There didn't seem to be any real malice in the laughter... It reminded her more of the audience in a theater on the rare occasion a movie was actually funny than the cafeteria at school when somebody dropped their tray.
She jumped to her feet - much less impressively than she normally would, of course - and the laughter turned into another round of applause before everyone turned back to their conversations and/or dancing.
Now that she was closer, she began to see the costumes the guests were wearing, and found herself a bit taken aback by them. They were all dressed as metahumans, she realized, or, rather, caricatures of them. Some of them were in pretty bad taste, like the one dressed up as a butterfly wrapped in coils of wire, or in the plain, black uniform of the Defenders, complemented with a hangman's noose around their neck. Others were just in somewhat questionable taste, like a Wondra who was barely wearing anything at all, other than the mask, or an Oceanus with targets painted all over his costume.
As bad as it made her feel, having met Oceanus and knowing what a sweet man he was, she still couldn't help but giggle at the last one. It seemed difficult to get through a week without seeing a story on the news about some new injury he had gotten.
But surely these weren't all metas... It seemed impossible, or at least improbable, for so many to be in one place. Especially a place like this. Most of them did not have a very good sense of humor about themselves or their chosen... hobby. And, when she thought about it, there weren't many who would dare make fun of other metas who had gotten killed.
"Good show," a man told her, clapping her on the back. "Very clever."
"Umm... Thanks..." she fumbled, not sure how to take that. If these weren't other metas, and of that she was pretty certain by then, did they realize she was the real White Rabbit? It seemed unlikely, especially when the next person spoke to her.
"Great choice," she said. "Damn kids, thinking they can push their elders around just because they've got powers. What's this world coming to, huh?" She walked away, shaking her head, while the White Rabbit struggled to keep herself from chasing her down and beating her to a pulp. Was that really what people thought? She wasn't naive enough to believe everyone loved her, but she'd never encountered anything quite like that.
"Did you see her during the Giga-Golem fight in LA?" someone else asked. "She has got to be the single most worthless meta ever born."
She restrained herself from pointing out that had been one of the earliest missions she'd been allowed on, and she had been expressly forbidden to come within a block of the actual battle. And so, of course, half of the news footage of the fight consisted of her standing there, playing with her cell phone - she'd gotten a new one for her birthday just a few days ago. The fight had been pretty straight-forward, after all, and there wasn't a whole lot to watch. Once you'd seen a giant monster get hit a few hundred times, it started to get a little boring.
"The diaper's a great touch," said an Odin with a ball gag over his mask. "Pure genius."
"Yeah, you too." Her voice came out less sarcastic than she would have liked, since she was pretty sure all those BDSM rumors were totally unfounded, not to mention ridiculous.
"Not enjoying yourself?"
"No, this is a blast," she told the voice, having no trouble sounding sarcastic that time. "Best party ever. Why don't you tell me where you are so I can come thank you for bringing me here."
"Now, why do I get the idea that's not all you want to do? Let me guess," it cooed. "You're ready for a nice diaper change."
A minute later, she came up with a decent come-back, along the lines of "Why don't you come over here and check?", but that was about a minute too late, since she had already hissed, "Do not!" quite vehemently, and gotten a reply.
"The baby doth protest too much." She wasn't sure what it meant, exactly, but it did not amuse her.
"I do -not- need a diaper change!" she insisted, only to have almost the entire ballroom turn to look at her, as the booming echo of her last words hit her ears. Jackass must be running the input from the microphone s/he was using to communicate with her through some loudspeaker system. Perfect. "Because... umm... I'm the great and powerful White Rabbit!"
She had hoped to come up with something a little wittier than that. Obviously, it didn't happen, and as the sound of her voice faded from the hall, she could hear the people closest to her whispering. "Spotlight hog," one of them was saying.
"She needs to get over herself," the other answered. "It isn't -that- great a costume."
It would have been horribly, terribly ironic if she were to actually have an accident at just that moment, she thought to herself.
If that were to happen, she mused, people might stare at her, much as they were right then, and a few would perhaps even titter behind their masks, like she heard a few doing. But her bladder still felt as full as it had been ever since she woke up, so she knew, theoretically anyway, she was all right.
Still, a certain paranoid part of her mind won out and she found herself glancing down at her diaper, where all the other masks around her seemed to be focused.
"That's just sad," she heard the whispers start again. "That's what happens when you don't know when to stop."
"It's not me!" she exclaimed, moving her hands in front of the diaper's growing yellow spot. "I'm not really peeing!"
But, of course, her connection to the loudspeakers had been cut off by then (not that she was really sure she wanted something like that getting broadcast any further than it already had been), and the people around her weren't interested in listening to her anymore.
"I am going to protest my foot through your skull," she promised the voice in the mask, not caring if she made any more sense than it had last time. "Are you getting off on all this? What kind of sick pervert are you?"
"You wound me," the mask answered dryly. "It's hardly my fault you have no sense of humor."
"Neither do your guests," she shot back. Everyone had begun to pull away from her, though it felt like more of them than ever were staring at her and whispering to each other.
"Oh, theirs is the very finest. Apparently you just aren't sophisticated enough to appreciate it. Though I can't say I'm surprised." There was something there, in the voice, something odd. It sounded, perhaps, like it was hiding a touch of wounded pride.
That was just the sort of thing she'd been hoping for. If there was one thing most of the Squadron's nemeses had in common, it was pride - you needed a lot of it to think you could take on that many metas by yourself and actually come out on top. But what had she said that had upset this one?
She'd been talking about the people at the party, and their sense of humor... Going just from the latter, she might think it was Chuckles, but not only would he not be speaking, he hadn't been seen for years, ever since he successfully robbed five banks in one day and, most people agreed, moved to the Bahamas. Also, she really, really did not want to have to fight a mime. Giant lizards and vampires she could handle, but there was just something about mimes that freaked her out.
Jester, then? No, he was dead. Maybe The Ventriloquist? Now that one made a lot of sense, except for the part where she had supposedly reformed.
But maybe, she thought, mind going back to a newspaper headline she'd seen just a few days before, this person wasn't -controlling- the crowd. Maybe they -were- the crowd.
Word was that Simulacrum had escaped from prison earlier that week. She'd never been entirely clear on what his - or was ir her? - powers were, exactly. S/he could make copies of him/herself, but they weren't exact copies, seeing as they weren't all the same gender, nor did they tend to act anything alike. Except that she was pretty sure they all had reasons to hate all of the "good guys" who had crossed their various paths and eventually caught them. She'd never gone up against them personally, but she was sure that wouldn't stop them from using her to send a message to the rest of the Squadron.
She had several seconds to revel in the fact that she had actually worked it all out for herself before she couldn't hold off the horror of what it actually meant any longer. She'd found her captor - all 200 of them. How could she take them all out by herself? And how was she going to keep from tipping her hand, from letting them know that she knew?
Check your surroundings, she reminded herself. There's always something to use. It was one of the basic principles Lumina, her main combat instructor, was always trying to drill into her mind. Just take the time to stop, look around. Lumina went on and on about how many times doing so had saved her life, and maybe even the whole team, and blah blah blah.
But then, for the first time, as she glanced skyward, White Rabbit began to think that her teacher might have had the right idea.
She still wasn't used to the damn diaper - she hoped to God she'd never have to be - or else things would have been a lot simpler. Even so, she was pretty sure she had it all worked out so that, with any luck, it wouldn't matter too much. She whirled around, started running straight for the staircase, ducking in between people to keep from having to slow down too much before she got close enough.
The first jump didn't go quite as well as she'd hoped, but she still landed on the railing nearly halfway to the top. She lost a precious few seconds waving her arms around like an idiot to keep from falling back onto her ass again, which, once she'd jumped from there up onto the railing of the balcony below, didn't give her nearly enough time to position herself again.
So she held her breath, said a little prayer, and launched herself backwards. She somehow managed to avoid slamming her head into the ceiling above, and, by some further miracle, ended up close enough to the chandelier that she'd been able to grab ahold of it with one hand, though she nearly lost her grip as the full weight of her body was suddenly being supported by just that hand. Pain shot through her shoulder and tears stung her eyes, but she held on, reaching up with her other hand as the sound of creaking and cracking from above greeted her ears.
She pulled herself onto the chandelier at just about the same time as it pulled itself free of the ceiling, and began to plummet to the ground. Unfortunately, she didn't even get to see it land, as glorious as the crash sounded. Instead, she jumped off a few second before impact, making sure she'd get far enough away to avoid most of the flying glass, landing on the shoulders of a Simulacrum copy dressed as some meta she didn't even recognize, then hopping down off of him as he began to fall.
She spun, her foot catching the man in the back as he fell, launching him into a nearby group, still standing and staring, dumbfounded. One of the women standing closer to her was a little more quick-witted, and leapt forward at her, arms outstretched.
White Rabbit wasn't anywhere near her top speed, but she was more than fast enough to dodge that, knocking the woman's feet out from under her before she even realized she'd missed. She ducked another man's fist, and had time to admonish him with a, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to hit girls?" before she kicked him in the stomach.
As he stumbled backwards and started to fall, he bumped into someone else, and in the ensuing tangle of falling bodies, his mask came loose, and fell, almost in slow motion, revealing the person underneath.
A person who was, most definitely, not any iteration of Simulacrum. "Daddy?" she whispered, too shocked to go to him. She turned to look at the people still struggling to get out from under the chandelier, many of whom had also lost their masks, or had them knocked askew. She saw Shellie, one of her coworkers, there, and her math teacher from third grade, strangely enough. What were they all doing there? Surely they didn't all hate metas... Her dad, at the very least, couldn't, just couldn't!
And then, from the corner of her eye, blood dripping down the side of her face, she saw Gossamer, or Gossamer's civilian identity, anyway.
"Wait... What?" If Gossamer was there, why hadn't she helped her, or at least stopped her? And why in the world would she be there in the first place?
"All right, just stop the program," Lumina's voice boomed, and all of the sudden, the ballroom began to shimmer, then vanish out from under her. The costume, including the wretched diaper, also vanished, leaving her in the clothes she'd been wearing earlier that day, though she felt a sudden rush of vertigo as her mind realized her body was lying down rather than standing up.
"Are you okay?" asked The Sorceress, reaching out to pat her hand. "I've been told it can be a bit disorienting coming back out of my illusions."
White Rabbit nodded slowly, her mind still trying to piece everything together. "You... You guys kidnapped me?" she inquired finally. The Sorceress nodded with a blush.
"I don't know if I'd put it quite like that," she protested. "We did have your parents' permission."
"We couldn't let you know what was going on," Lumina interjected. "It throws the whole test off."
"A test?" White Rabbit started to sit up, but got only halfway there before her head started to spin too much, forcing her to lay back down. "What kind of a test was that? That was seriously messed up!"
"And so are our enemies," Lumina countered. "They'll use anything they can to mess with you, to throw you off your game, screw with your mind."
It started to fall into place then, when she heard that. "There was no bad guy at the party at all, was there? He was probably watching from China or something."
"A lair downtown, actually, but same theory," Lumina nodded. "It's too bad you didn't work that out before you injured all those innocent civilians."
"Innocent?" White Rabbit coughed. "Did you see what they were... Well, of course you did."
"There are those who don't like us. You know that." Lumina shook her head. "That doesn't mean they deserve to get killed if you go off half-cocked."
"Well, I didn't deserve to get snatched off the street and brainwashed, did I?" she shot back.
"It's not brainwashing..." The Sorceress protested.
"Excuse me... I didn't deserve to get snatched off the street and subjected to your screwed up little fantasy, did I?!"
"Calm yourself," Lumina commanded, and a ball of light engulfed them. White Rabbit felt her heart's beating start to slow a bit, but she wasn't any happier about what they'd done to her. "This was a necessary test," she began to explain, using that annoying teacher's tone she had. "We needed to see if you were ready to become a full member."
"I assume I failed," she said icily.
"Hardly anyone passes their first time," The Sorceress chirped.
"And do they all get put in diapers?" she demanded. "Do they all get humiliated in front of everyone they know?!"
"Well, those were just supposed to be random people, but I thought that would get your attention a little more, you know, just..." The Sorceress prattled on, even as Lumina started on her own lecture.
"To be a member of the Squadron, you need to be able to look past any of your own concerns, and concentrate on saving lives, rather than worrying about your own dignity and happiness. No matter what is done to you, you..."
"Oh, shut up!" the Rabbit roared, actually sitting up this time. "Just shut up! Do you really think I care about any of that?!"
"Well, you'd better, young lady, if..." Lumina began, only to be interrupted.
"Now, I know you're upset, dear, but just..."
"If you plan on becoming a member of the Squadron," Lumina cut her teammate off with a glare, "then you had better start caring."
"I guess it's a good thing," she said, getting to her feet, pleased at how quickly she was recovering, "I don't plan on doing that."
She didn't feel confident enough in her strength to kick Lumina in the face, as she would dearly have liked to, so she simply walked away, while The Sorceress called after her that she should take a few days to cool down, and everything would make more sense, then. She heard Lumina assure the other woman that White Rabbit would be back.
She was tempted to turn around then; it took all her strength not to. Oh, she would be back all right, but it wouldn't be to beg for that old hag to teach her whatever asinine tricks the team wanted her to know, so she could be a good little soldier like all of them.
Lumina was right about one thing - she knew there were people out there who hated her, just because she was born with a few little special abilities. And she was definitely not going to go through anything like what had happened in the illusion again for their sakes.
And she was sure as hell not going to let Lumina get away with putting her through that. No, scratch that... She wasn't going to let the Squadron get away with it. They were probably all in on it, even Gossamer, smiling and laughing with her just the day before as if nothing was going on.
Well, screw 'em all.
She slammed the front door of the headquarters behind her, stepped out into the clear, Halloween air, full moon shining bright above her.
And the Rabbit began to make plans for the hunt.
Death of a Superhero
It's all the Prophet's fault. There's no other explanation for it. I knew it all along, really, but I was too stupid, too lazy to do anything about it. It'll all sort itself out, I told myself. It can't last forever.
I was wrong. As I glance down at the picture of myself in the magazine on my coffee table, I realize I'd been dead wrong. And it's time to do something about it.
I stumble over to my kitchen, past the open cabinet, some new girl staring out at me from the cans inside, beside ones with their sides blacked out, thick marker strokes masking the image underneath. The cabinet beside it looks empty at first glance, though, if you look close enough, you might notice it isn't quite as big as the other cabinets.
The secret compartment pops open easily, contents spilling out unceremoniously, still wadded up into one big mass from the last time I'd stuffed them inside.
I don't remember it being so hard to breathe inside, but it has been a while. That's okay. No big deal. It still goes on, and that's all that's important. I almost start to feel like my old self, even though I make sure to avoid looking in the mirror on the way out of my apartment.
The wind outside is strong, almost pushing me back through the window. I put my head down and my courage up and step back out into it, daring it to try again as I make my way down the fire escape. It takes me up on that, but with my fingers wrapped around the railing, and a few prayers to anything still willing to listen, it doesn't succeed in pushing me off and onto the ground below.
I groan as I hit the ground after my jump from the final step, feeling the skin scraping off my palms as they keep me from falling flat on my face. I guess I should have planned that out a little better - I couldn't afford to talk myself out of it, however. I can't imagine what people would think if they knew I hated heights. Always had, before, and now that I'm in the after, it was true again.
I wipe my hands off on my skirt - had it always been that short? And here I thought they had been exaggerating... - and head towards the street, allowing myself to blend into the surge of people as best I can. It isn't exactly an easy task. Maybe I should have waited until I got to my destination before changing. Too late now, anyway. People here don't pay each other much mind, anyway.
The children, on the other hand, haven't learned that skill yet. The girl who stops me can't be older than ten, hair nearly as pink as the shirt she's wearing. "Didn't you hear?" she asked, ignoring her friends' urgings to leave the crazy lady alone, or they'd be late to the movie. "Omni-Girl is gone."
I shake my head with a smile, feeling my long blonde hair flowing behind me in the wind, with my cape doing the same right below it. "She'll be back. Just you wait!"
The girl glances at one of her friends, then the other, before bursting out into laughter. "What are you?" she asks finally, shaking her head, already turning to continue on her way. "An idiot?"
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"Are you some sort of imbecile?" he boomed, the final words spinning from his mouth and crashing into the wall - which would have gotten dumber, I suppose, if it'd had a brain in the first place - I'd just ducked behind. "To think that you can defeat the Prophet?"
"No, just a little optimistic," I chirped back, jumping into the air and zooming around the corner towards him.
"Yes, you're practically walking on air," he replied dryly, towards the sidewalk. He was too slow, but I turned quickly to get behind the block of cement that had just shot upwards at me, giving a bit of a spin as I prepared to kick it back towards him.
And that was when he did... whatever he did. It all happened so fast, no matter how many times I replay it in my mind - and I've done so at least a million times - I'm still not sure how he did it. He was gone by the time the projectile smashed to the ground, that much I know, but before that, before my foot actually even connected, he said something else, something my ears didn't have time to process before they were filled with my own screaming, and the sound of my leg snapping.
I must have hit the ground shortly after that, but I was already unconscious by that time.
"You have to be careful," the doctor told me. "What were you trying to do, see if you could fly? Aren't you old enough to know there are safer ways of finding out if you have powers?"
'Of course I am,' I'd wanted to tell him. 'I know more about superheroes than you could ever dream.' It was amazing, really, how few people will believe you really are a meta when you've just been carried into an emergency room with a broken leg, even when you're wearing a costume.
That was good, though, I suppose. At the very least, it kept the truth from getting into the news. Having the fact that you were just incapacitated is generally not a good thing to broadcast when you've got as many enemies as I do.
After getting over the initial annoyance of being stuck in a cast, I actually began to enjoy my forced vacation. Not knowing how my powers actually work, I just assumed that my leg was somehow connected with my ability to fly, and once the former was healed, the latter would return. No big deal, I told myself, everything's all right.
I even continued to believe that when my best friend Shelley, ever the master of tact, suggested, "Maybe you should cut back on the junk food, Jane."
I just brushed her off, since I couldn't come out and tell her I didn't have to worry about that. Whatever let me fly, and gave me super strength, had been keeping the rest of my body in peak condition since I was ten, no matter what I ate. Some creepy photographer guy had even given me his card once after I'd stopped a robbery in a bank he'd been visiting, told me I should give him a call if I ever needed some extra money, and he'd get me a gig modeling for whatever magazine he worked for. It was kind of flattering, but I made enough cash from my sponsorships that I'd never given it any serious consideration.
Still, when I was getting dressed to get my cast taken off, I couldn't help but notice that there was a little more belly than usual between my shirt and my skirt. "Just your imagination," I told myself. "Everything will be fine once the cast is gone."
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"How can it all be gone already?" I grumbled, turning the can upside down and shaking it, even though I could clearly see that it was empty of everything but a little plastic measuring cup, which fell out into my cup. "What a gyp," I sighed. I really should have talked to them about it. Or kept a better eye on what they were actually doing.
I pulled on my coat, stumbled towards the elevator. "There's still a message waiting for you at the desk," the doorman reminded me as I brushed past, blinking, into the too bright world outside.
There was a convenience store on the corner. Took two seconds to get to flying, far too long walking. Still, it was the closest. I wasn't about to buy a car to get around in - in theory I could drive, since I kept my license renewed and all, but I hadn't been behind the wheel since I'd passed the test. And I'd never learned to ride a bike, nor was I going to try to learn how in the middle of the city. My dad had been supposed to teach me, but he was always busy, and once I found out I could fly, I kinda lost all interest, even when he finally bought me a bike for my eleventh birthday. I guess he would still have it rusting in his garage, if he were still alive.
The cashier glanced up from his magazine when the bell over the door rang, announcing my arrival. If my previous visits were any indication, he gave me the slightest of nods before proceeding to ignore me. I'm not completely certain, since I was already halfway across the store by then.
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Elizabeth
Site Admin
Joined: 30 Dec 2007
Posts: 172
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My heart skipped a beat when my eyes fixed upon the usual spot, only to find a bunch of pictures of trees staring back at me. I turned around, glanced down the aisle. Not there. I walked up and down a few times, just to make sure.
"Hey," I said finally. He lifted his head slowly, looking for all the world like a turtle. "Where is...?"
"Up here," he nodded towards a bin in front of the counter, which was where he normally put anything and everything that was set to expire in a week or less.
"Is that it?"
He shrugged, already getting re-enthralled in his magazine. "They didn't send any more. Guess they're discontinuing it. She's gone, you know. Guess that's bad publicity."
"She'll be back," I told him angrily, scooping up all of the cans I could find in the bin and shoving them onto his counter. "Just you wait!"
"Whatever you say," he said with a smile, turning his head to fake cough, so he thought I wouldn't see him roll his eyes. "Why are you so obsessed with her anyway? What did she ever do, besides pose for some diet drink that doesn't even work?"
"She was a great hero," I informed him. "Maybe if you didn't spend all day looking at porn, you'd have time to watch the news!"
He shrugged stiffly. "Maybe so. $34.78, ma'am."
I yanked out my purse, still glaring at him, shoved a handful of bills at him, not even bothering to count the change when he gave it back to me, though I could tell there wasn't much of it, nor was there much for it to join in my purse. I should have used his ATM before storming out, but I was hardly in the mood to be told that the diet company still hadn't deposited my next paycheck. I couldn't really call them up and tell them I was still around, either.
Once I get my powers back, I'll fly over there and give them a piece of my mind, I told myself. Maybe even threaten to let some other company use my image instead. There were plenty of diet programs out there.
"Message for you, Miss Delacroix."
I ignored him, hurried into the elevator and pounded on the button for my floor before he could follow. I set the plastic bags down on the floor of the elevator as it rose, opening and closing my fingers where the handles had dug down into my flesh, trying to forget that not long ago, I could've carried ten times that weight and barely notice a thing.
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and I bent down to pick up the bags again, only to drop them and start pressing random buttons, trying to get the doors to close before the two hotel employees standing in front of my apartment door could see me.
I sank to the floor next to the bags as the doors closed. "Son of a bitch," I moaned. When were they going to give up? They were more persistent than most of my archvillians!
I sighed, eyes sweeping the elevator, while a dozen miniature copies of them stared up at me. I could feel my hand starting to shake while I tried to keep my gaze away from them, but I couldn't help myself. My black marker was still up in the apartment... I had a pen in my purse, though, and I snatched it out, grabbed the nearest can, and started scribbling madly.
"Stop looking at me," I growled. "Stop it!"
------------------------------------
"And what do you feel when you look at yourself?"
I shrugged uncomfortably. How did I let Shelley talk me into this? It was stupid, and a total waste of money that should have gone to paying my phone bill.
"Shelley tells me you're a big fan of Omni-Girl." The psychologist adjusted her glasses calmly, while I squirmed under her gaze, trying to find something to say.
"I guess," I said finally.
"You look a little like her." I shrugged again, unsure if I should thank her or not. I'd have liked to think that was a compliment.
"I used to look more like her."
"How so?"
I glanced down at the floor, feeling my arms circling around my stomach.
"Are you worried about your weight?" I started to shrug again, found myself nodding, ever so slightly, instead. "You know all those pictures of her are airbrushed, don't you?"
"No, they aren't!" I snapped, glaring at her and meeting her eyes for the first time.
"All right," she conceded. "But either way, Jane, you're at a perfectly normal weight for someone your age. You're a beautiful young lady. I want you to remember that, okay?"
"Really?" I whispered. She nodded. "I just feel so... ordinary."
"You're beautiful," she repeated. "I want you to tell yourself that every day."
"I'm beautiful."
"Exactly."
----------------------------------------
"I guess you'll do," he sighed. "I've seen worse."
"You gave me your card," I reminded him, again.
"No, I gave my card to the real Omni-Girl. Dressing up like her doesn't make you her."
I bit my tongue; I needed the money, and I couldn't really see myself becoming a waitress or something like that. I might have sunk pretty low, but I wasn't there yet. If he didn't want to believe me... Well, I wouldn't have either, to be honest.
"Be here tomorrow," he told me, turning back to his computer. "Ten. Or I'll find someone else."
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"This is the best you could find?" I wasn't sure exactly who said that - there were far more people around than I ever would have guessed would be needed to take a few pictures - but I could feel my cheeks flushing as I heard it. I might have done something about it, another time, at least if I hadn't been so busy making sure no important parts of my anatomy fell out of my "wardrobe".
I'd worn my costume there, of course, just as I had the day before, but once I'd shown up that day, I was whisked away to a dressing room, given what looked like a copy of it made for a kid. I tried to tell them they'd given me the wrong size, but they just told me to hurry up, I was already late.
I'm not going to pretend my costume was particularly modest - I know it wasn't. What mattered to me more was that it was comfortable, easy to move in, and, most importantly, that it looked good on me. The cape was the exception, to be honest. Back when I was a kid, though, back when metas were first showing up, everyone had them, I guess because superheroes in comics wore them. It had seemed wrong to have any sort of costume without one, and I couldn't seem to get rid of it, even though most metas nowadays don't bother with them, and are probably better off for it.
Other than that, my costume was pretty simple - a blue miniskirt, a slit up the right thigh, and spankies underneath. I'd switched to shorts underneath for a little while, but that just seemed silly. On top, I had a pink, sleeveless shirt that tied (most of the way) shut at my left side. I had a mask that covered the top half of my face that I wore when I remembered it, which was usually if I was going to do something high profile, where there were likely to be television crews around. Which was most of the time, really.
"Oh, that's good," the photographer told me. I looked around confusedly a time or two before I noticed I was holding the cape closed around myself. Even though I was doing it because I was halfway convinced various body parts were going to be popping out of their version of my costume any moment, I felt myself relax a little at hearing this. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all; maybe I was a natural!
I let myself get ushered to the set, which was pretty simple, just a bunch of lights and a sky backdrop. Kind of disappointing, really, but I was hardly in a position to complain. The photographer started snapping pictures, while I did my best to look at least cute, moving up to sexy as he talked me into finally letting the cape go.
I'd been photographed before, of course, but it had been a little while, and it hadn't been the same thing. Still, once we got started, I managed to lose myself in the rhythm of it, to even enjoy the attention. It wasn't the same as having people calling out how thankful they were that you just saved their home/wife/children/whatever, but I thought I could learn to make do with it. Maybe I'd even keep doing it after I got my powers back...
I didn't think anything of it when he told me to take off my cape - I was even a little grateful. I noticed them changing the backdrop on me, didn't pay much attention to it, nor did it particularly bother me when he told me to lay down on top of the cape. I stared up at the camera as seductively as one could with a mask on.
But he finally snapped me back to my senses when he said, "All right, now let's have that shirt off."
"Huh?" I blinked.
"Off with it," he repeated. "Can't keep teasing the whole time, now can we?"
I grabbed the cape, pulling it up and over me, the reality of what I'd been doing hitting me. "I think we can."
"Do you now?" he sneered. "Guess you don't have much practice with the whole thinking thing, do you?"
I recoiled a little, surprised to feel a tear at the corner of my eye. "Screw you." I got to my feet. "I don't need this!"
"Then why were you begging me to take you yesterday? You're lucky I didn't kick you out of my office the moment I laid eyes on you! Do you honestly think anyone else will want you?"
I could feel my strength returning as my back straightened, and my resolve finally broke through the Prophet's spell. I could have knocked the photographer right through the wall if I'd wanted, but I had to remember he was just a human, no matter how sleazy he might be.
Or I would have liked that to have been a problem, anyway. If fate was at all nice, that might have happened. Instead, I just felt a pain in my knuckles, and then a much larger one across my cheek, and I found myself on the floor, mouth filling with blood as I stared up at the photographer.
"Get out of my studio," he growled, lightly rubbing his jaw, which probably didn't get so much as a bruise.
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"Get out of here!" Shelley shook her head.
"They told me I didn't have enough experience," I shrugged. If I weren't so used to it from years of protecting my secret identity, I might have felt uncomfortable lying to her. "How much experience does it take to sell books?"
"Well, have you ever worked retail before?"
"Whose side are you on?" I sulked. "I'm twenty, I think I can figure out how to run a freakin' cash register." Not that I particularly wanted to waste my time on that. Which is, I suppose, why I hadn't bothered actually applying for the job.
"I'm sure," she said patronizingly. "I told you we have an opening at Harry's, didn't I? I could put in a good word for you if you want... I mean, you'd have to move out of this place, but you'd have to do that anyway. I'm surprised your inheritance lasted this long, as high as rent here is."
My inheritance had been almost exactly enough to pay for my first month there, but I couldn't explain that without telling her how I'd paid for every month since then. I guess if I'd gotten a smaller place to begin with, the sponsorship money would've lasted longer, except that I'd probably have just found something else to spend it on. And, besides, with all the good I could do in the city, I deserved a nice place to live, didn't I? I certainly deserved better than the dump Shelley lived in, the one she could barely pay for.
"I think I'll see what else I can find," I told her. And I'd have to soon, if only because I was running out of places to tell her I'd applied at. There were a couple I'd actually tried to get to hire me, but after they'd flat out rejected me, I'd just sort of given up. "I'm sure something will come up."
"You don't have -any- experience?" she asked for the hundredth time. "Not a summer job when you were in high school, nothing?"
I shrugged. "I always had better things to do. You know." And I'd never thought there was any point to bothering with some fast food place or whatever, not when I knew I was destined for much more important things than that. I wouldn't have minded working at a clothes store or something, I suppose, other than having to deal with all the stupid customers.
"Well," she smiled, not quite able to hide the pity in her eyes. "Like you said... I'm sure something will come up."
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"Come on up!" the voice chirped from the box. I heard the lock click, and was surprised that the whole door didn't fall apart. I stayed outside for a moment, staring up at the dingy windows with a sigh. It wasn't too late to take Shelley up on her offer, suck it up and learn to be a waitress. And give up my apartment, I reminded myself, and probably half my stuff, just so whatever little hellhole I managed to find wouldn't be full, wall to wall.
I stepped through the door, having to give the bottom a little kick to get it to open. 'They're going to pay you,' I reminded myself, no matter how ridiculous that seemed. Maybe they didn't have the funds to move to a better building because they spent it all on models?
Though, if that were the case, I'd be walking back out the door after a minute or two, which was all the longer I'd lasted everywhere else. Here, though... Surely they couldn't afford to be that picky, could they?
"Good morning!" the little man who answered the office door exclaimed, gesturing for me to enter. "How are you doing?"
I forced myself to smile. "I'm all right."
"Great!" He closed the door, had me follow him to the couch at the center of the room, in front of a magazine covered coffee table. I sat down carefully, ready to dart away quickly if it came to that. "Would you like something to drink?" I shook my head. "Okay... Well, I guess I should make sure... You're still comfortable with everything we talked about over the phone?"
I chewed on my bottom lip, hesitating, before nodding, barely keeping myself from bursting into tears.
"Are you all right?"
I glanced up at him with a sad little smile. "I'm fine," I assured him. "I've just... I've never done anything like this before."
"Oh, you'll be great!" he promised with a warm chuckle. "It's easy as pie."
"I didn't... I mean... I don't really have..." I struggled with the words, one in particular that I couldn't get to squeeze pas my lips.
"We provide wardrobe," he winked. "You ready to get started?"
No, I wasn't. But I nodded anyway, let him lead me to the dressing room. My new costume was already laid out for me on the counter there, waiting. I approached it slowly, listening to the door close behind me as I reached out, hand trembling ever so slightly.
"Get it over with," I whispered. "Do it, or get out."
I slipped off my blouse, put on the pink shirt that had been chosen for me. I kicked off my shoes, pulled off my socks and put them into the shoes carefully, taking as long as I thought I could get away with, using the time to remind myself once again, "You're getting paid. You won't have to give up the apartment."
My fingers felt slippery, clumsy, and it took me a few tries to get them to unbutton my jeans, by which time the condition seemed to have transferred to my legs, and I had to sit down to get them all the way off. I folded them up, then took off my panties and did the same with them.
"Get it over with," I whispered. "Just do it."
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"Just a little to the left," he coerced, kneeling down to get on the same plane as me before clicking off another picture. "Perfect! You're a natural, hon!"
I blushed at the praise, then even deeper when he took another picture. I dropped the block, rocked back from my squatting position onto my ass, the thick diaper crinkling underneath me. My legs splayed out when I sat, forced apart by the padding.
"Legs getting tired?" he asked, and I nodded absentmindedly. "Why don't you go lay down for a little while? We could get some nice naptime pictures."
I nodded again, getting onto my hands and knees to crawl across the little makeshift nursery to where the crib was waiting, hearing a laugh and more clicking from behind me.
"Well, I meant for you to walk over there," he shrugged when I glanced behind me to see what he was finding so funny. "But that works too. You really are a natural."
I turned back around, face bright red, but I didn't get to my feet.
The crib was surprisingly comfortable - I could feel myself almost falling asleep as I curled up in it, letting him take picture after picture of me. "Could you..?" he started, but before he could finish, I put my thumb into my mouth, already figuring out where he was going. "Perfect."
After a little while, he draped a blanket over me. I felt my fingers grip it, pulling it around myself protectively. "You like that, huh?" he whispered softly, and I felt my head nodding sleepily.
"My cape," I mumbled incoherently. "Just like the real heroes."
-------------------------------------------
"Now that was a real hero," the man shook his head while he looked at the newspaper clutched in his hands. "Did you hear about that? Some psycho killed one of those superhero chicks."
"I think they're called metahumans or something," his companion corrected him.
"Oh, she's not dead," I said, finally having worked up the courage to interrupt their little conversation. "She'll be back."
The first man raised his eyebrow, glanced at me like I'd forgotten to change into my real clothes after my last modeling session. "No, I'm pretty sure she's dead. Got electrocuted or something."
"Huh?" I cocked my head sideways to get a better look at the paper, which he was now holding at his side. "Oh. Sorry, got confused there. Still... Kinda seems like something's out for female meta's, huh?"
"What?" They were both watching me now, expressions totally confused.
"Well, this one gets killed, and Omni-Girl vanished a while back and all..."
"Oh, her." The second man shrugged. "Forgot about that." I could almost believe the memory of it had come back to him, then. Almost.
"Morning!" the cashier called, voice giving a little hitch when he recognized me. I kept my eyes on the floor as I made my way to the usual aisle.
Surprisingly enough, despite my fears, there were plenty of cans of my diet drinks waiting for me. Even more surprisingly, there was some stranger on them. I moved the first row, wondering if they'd just found a joint spokeswoman, but all the cans behind had the same person, as did all the ones behind them.
The cashier was silent as I paid for my purchase, which was lucky, since I was probably too shell-shocked to have been able to reply to anything. How could they just replace me like that?
The doorman nodded to me, but didn't have anything to say besides, "Afternoon, Miss Delacroix."
I was surprised to find a large manilla envelope waiting for me with the rest of my mail, until I pulled out the letter inside.
"Jane -
"Hope you had as much fun as I did. You're welcome back anytime. Hope you like the picture I chose for the cover - it was my favorite."
I was almost afraid to pull the magazine from the envelope. Curiosity got the better of me, though, and I did it anyway, yanking it out quick to get it over with once I'd made the decision.
And there I was, on the cover, still looking sleepy from the nap I'd ended up taking, captured in mid-jump, the blanket tied around my neck, fluttering behind me like a cape, diaper bulging between my legs.
Reality slammed into me with all the force of a leg slamming into a block of concrete.
"What the hell am I doing?"
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"How the hell did you find me?" The Prophet asks, the air around him crackling with fire for a brief moment before just the smell of sulphur remains.
"I'm Omni-Girl," I told him. "I've got my sources." That, and I knew he liked to take walks in this park. It was a nice place, and he never caused any trouble here, so I'd never had any reason to let him know I knew about it until now. I should have gone sooner, but I've been too scared to face him, helpless as I am, too stubborn in insisting that my powers to come back, too busy waiting for them to do so. Waiting for them to come back, and let me start living my life again.
"Even if you don't have powers?" He smiles slyly, electricity running along the ground towards me, slowly enough to give me time to hop out of the way.
"Please, give them back," I beg, falling to my knees. If he wants to cut to the chase, I can do that. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll never bother you again. Just... Give them back. I need them."
He nods slowly. "You do, don't you? Well, unfortunately for you... I didn't take them. Sorry."
With that, he turns, starts to walk away.
"What?" I stand up, hands balling into fists. "What did you say?!"
"I said I didn't take your powers," he repeats. "So I can't give them back."
"Why should I believe you?!" I shout. "How do I know it wasn't you? How do I know you're not doing anything to me now?"
He stops at the last question, turns around. "Why would I bother?"
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The sun is setting by the time I get back to my apartment, the street lights starting to flicker to life.
I press the button for my floor, but can't get myself to move once the elevator doors open there. They slide closed again.
"It had to be him," I tell myself. He's lying, that has to be it. He wants something else. I can't imagine what else he could want to take from me, but there must be something.
But, no matter how much sense I'd like that to make, deep inside, I know he was telling the truth. And that's what scares me the most.
I press another button, feel the elevator rise again. This time I do step out, and up the last set of stairs, to the door to the roof.
If he didn't do it, maybe it was me, somehow. Just some psychological thing. Like Dumbo. I smile a little, thinking back to that movie. It had been my favorite, when I was ten. When I'd gotten my powers, and promised myself I'd use them for good, always, and be the best hero ever.
Had I kept that promise? When was the last time I'd done something good, and not so I could hear people talk about what a great person I was, or to get my picture in the evening news again? I'm not sure.
Maybe it was my inner child that was behind this all, trying to remind me of that promise.
I step forward, stare down at the lights buzzing beneath my feet. I used to look down at them all the time, and never thought a thing about it, had barely even recognized that there were people behind those lights, real people.
But I know that now. Maybe -that- was what I'd needed to learn.
I lift one foot, begin to swing it over the edge. "Just do it," I whisper. It's all I need, I know it. Just jump, and you'll have your powers again. That's all it will take.
Those are people, I tell myself, looking down again. People like Shelley, though not quite like me. Or rather, not quite like Omni-Girl. But are they like me?
The lights dance below me.
I don't know. I honestly don't know.
I've been waiting so long for my powers to come back. Waiting for my life to come back. Is that all there is to me, though? My powers? Are they all that I am?
I step away from the edge. Maybe it's okay to let Omni-Girl stay gone for a little longer... Maybe it's time I get to know Jane Delacroix.
Croatoa
"We're very disappointed," they had said, when they finally stumbled across my secret stash. I could have hidden it much better, if I'd wanted, but I hadn't thought it was necessary. Hell, I'd been expecting at least mum to be proud of me, for taking things into my own hands.
"We know we're at least partly to blame," they'd gone on. "Maybe we didn't make you realize just how dangerous this is."
"I can do it," I'd assured them. "I'm ready."
They hadn't agreed. Or maybe they didn't want to see it, didn't want to recognize that their little girl was growing up. But the more I think about their expressions that day, as they sat me down and gave me the talk that turned my life upside-down, the more I suspect that they were afraid.
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"Alex, stop it!" Pauline screams. "This is mad!"
"Are you calling me crazy?" I ask, calmly, as I advance. "Bonkers? Loony? Is that really what you want to call me right now?"
"Please!" She starts to cry, right on schedule, as if she could fool me so easily. "Why are you doing this?"
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"Would you turn down that noise?" Bridget yelled, much more loudly than need be, though I don't imagine she realized it, seeing as she had her hands clamped over her ears. Honestly, she was so much worse than mum, who at least had never called my music "noise". I swear, if we hadn't just had a party for her sixteenth birthday, I'd be certain she was at least thirty. She had only eaten a tiny piece of her cake, too, and that just to be polite. That kind of thing was "too sweet" for her, or some such nonsense.
I was feeling rather magnanimous, so I took the volume down a few pegs, even though I found it difficult to believe it could really be bothering her -that- much. For a laptop, my computer had decent speakers, but they could hardly be called "loud" with any seriousness.
"You know, they make these things called headphones," Bridget said, turning a page in her book. It was homework of some sort, of that you could be sure - she was sitting at her desk, back straight as a rail, looking just as she did at all of her classes. She had a bit of a slouch when she was reading for pleasure. Occasionally, she'd even giggle then, though it happened so little that it always freaked me out a little. It just didn't sound natural. "You should look into them."
"They make earplugs, too," I pointed out. "Maybe you should check those out." I shook my head, hissed under my breath, "Mardy cow." It was days like those that I truly began to wonder if, despite their claims, my parents really had been trying to punish me. I guess they hadn't chosen my roommate or anything, but still.
Sometimes I just don't understand adults.
---------
Maybe she knows; maybe she doesn't. I like to think they do, as it makes it a little easier, but as much as they feign ignorance, sometimes I wonder. Not that it makes much of a difference, either way.
"I'm afraid," I tell her, holding up my knife again, so that it shines in the moonlight, "I don't have time to explain it tonight." She tries to stand back up, pain shining in her eyes, exploding as I stamp down on her ankle again before kneeling down in front of her.
"I can't guarantee they'll do any good for you," I say gently, "but would you like your last rites?"
---------
"It's definitely different," Jillian shrugged. "But it's kinda not, you know? People are pretty much the same, but everything has this whole different vibe."
"Ah," I nodded. "You probably get asked that a lot, don't you? I'm sorry."
"Oh, no problem," she waved it off with a smile. "I need the practice, since I'm sure I'll get asked that even more when I get home. I have a little sister, and you know how they can be."
"I'm an only child. But I know little kids, so yeah." I smiled back at her. "So, how do you like Pauline as a roommate? Don't tell her this, but I've heard some weird stuff about her..."
"Oh, she's fine," Jillian glanced away from me nervously, a sure sign she was hiding something. I let the silence hang for a few moments, knowing it would work better than anything I could possibly say. "But, it's just..."
"Just what?" I asked, scooting closer to her. "Come on, you can tell me."
She shook her head. "No, I shouldn't... It's just..."
I patted her hand, smiled into her eyes. "You can trust me."
---------
"Clear off!" Her hand smacks mine aside suddenly, her fingers cold against my skin, and smooth, like metal.
Finally, she shows her true form, as silver begins to pour across her body, slowly turning her into a living statue. It is, in its own way, beautiful, just like Jillian had described it.
"I think you broke my bleedin' ankle, you loon," she whines, reaching down for it with a whimper, too focused on her pain to remember, or care about, what she'd already seen, I suppose. "Now stop joking around right now, and help me to the hospital."
I shrug. "I guess I'll take that as a no."
---------
"Come on, just a few quid," I begged, even going so far as to get down on my knees. Bridget was not impressed. "I'll pay you back when my birthday comes round."
"Just ask your parents for it now." She grinned at me, all superior, as she chewed her food. I'm not going to pretend I'm the greatest roommate in the world, but there were time when she made me wish I'd spent all year putting itching powder in her pants.
I'd like to tell her I can't, yet it would only have led to the inevitable question of why not, to which there wasn't any good answer. At least not that I could have told her. "Fine," I said instead, picking up my tray and starting to stand. "Be that way."
"What's got her in a tizzy?" Pauline asked, suddenly appearing from nowhere, Jillian trailing a few steps behind.
"She's looking for money," Bridget shrugged. "Probably getting herself a prostitute." It was probably the closest thing to a joke I'd ever heard from her mouth, though she quickly added a serious, "But you're not bringing him to our room."
"He'll stay on my side of the room," I assured her dryly.
"How much do you need?"
I blushed, a little flustered. "You don't have to do that, Pauline."
She'd shook her head, reaching for her purse. "Don't worry about it."
----------
The first cut is the hardest. I should have been quicker, but I'd hesitated too long, let too much of her body morph. It swirls around the knife in her chest, holding it fast.
I shrug, stop trying to pull it out, and instead land a kick squarely on the hilt, which breaks. No big surprise there - it had been pretty cheap - but still a pity. It'd had a nice weight to it.
----------
"I'm sure your father will like this one," the man said, holding it up towards the fluorescent light before flipping it upwards and catching it again. "It's got a nice weight to it."
"I don't know," I glanced down at the case. "Is there anything cheaper?"
"Not for something this quality," he bristled.
"Well, it's just for show," I quickly told him. "It's not like he uses them or anything. But it does look very nice." He kept it out, handed it to me when he saw I was struggling to make up my mind. Ah, what did I care - it's not like it was -my- money. "You know what, I'll take it."
"Very fine choice."
----------
Her arm darts towards me, slithering through the air like a snake. She's slow, still not used to using her powers like that. I grab her hand easily and shove it back towards her before she realizes she could have her flesh slip between, and around, my fingers.
She's still crying. I guess I would be, too, if I'd been stabbed.
----------
"Glad I caught you out here!" I hurried over to Pauline, hoping she wouldn't notice how badly I was shivering - I'd been waiting for her to go for her usual evening jog for what felt like hours, at least. "Care if I join you?"
"Feel free," she smiled. "I'm just waiting for Jillian to get out of the head."
"Oh." I glanced towards the door. "I was kind of hoping I could talk with you. Alone."
"We can go to the coffee shop after," she shrugged apologetically. "I promised her."
"It's all right," I sighed quietly. I could work around it.
---------
I force her back, keeping her off balance for long enough to reach down, to the back of my boot. It's not nearly as nice a knife, but it'll do.
"Why are you doing this?" she asks, tears glistening in her eyes. "What did I do?"
But I have even less time now, and she's just wasting it.
--------
Jillian gasped first, backing away with a hand to her mouth. I'd been hoping the lack of street lamps would have made it harder to see, but I guess being out in the middle of nowhere, there wasn't much else to look at.
I slid the knife from out of its sheath, the wind having already exposed it by blowing my coat open too wide. I stood up, all traces of the tiredness I'd just faked to get our little group to stop gone.
"I'm sorry you have to see this," I told Jillian, "but it has to be done."
I kicked Pauline's ankle, thought I heard a snap.
Jillian backed away, shaking. "What's wrong with you? I'm... I'm going to go get the headmistress... You'd better..."
It was unfortunate, but sometimes, sacrifices had to be made. I stepped forward, slashing towards her throat, but even as she stepped backwards, her feet left the ground. Unless everyone could do that in the States, or she was one of them, too. It would have been a great stroke of luck, if I'd realized it earlier.
Jillian looked just as surprised as me, but not enough to stay low enough to the ground for me to grab her.
"Oh, chill," I told her, holding up my hands. "I'm just having a go at her... Look, it isn't even a real knife."
She hovered in a little closer to examine it, before Pauline ruined everything by whining, "That wasn't much of a joke! You really hurt my foot."
I swung the knife, caught Jillian's stomach. She lurched downwards in shock, and I clubbed her on the head. She went out like a light.
"And now," I said, stepping back towards Pauline, "for you."
---------
"May God," I whisper, "have mercy on your soul." I leave off 'if you even have one'. It probably sounds more comforting without it.
I jam my second knife into her eye, coming close to retching as I feel liquids, thick and warm, flowing onto my hand, but I stop myself, force myself to keep pushing.
Eventually, she stops struggling.
--------
"It's my mission," mum had told me, back when she first found out. "It's a test, you see. And mankind, we're failing. We're too blind to recognize it. They're not people, like you and me. They've come to us in our skin, but they're Croatoans, and they're here to wipe us off the planet. Like we'd never been here in the first place. Whether they want to or not, that's their lot. And it's my lot to stop them."
I wasn't sure then, what any of that meant - now, it's hard to believe how stupid I was.
"Why is it your job?" I'd asked. "Isn't there anyone else?"
"It's just destiny," she'd answered. "If we could only get other people to see, then maybe they would help."
"I can help."
But mum had shook her head. "Not until you're older."
And yet, even then, when she and dad had found my weapons, realized I was getting ready, they'd freaked out, sent me off to boarding school. "Go," they'd said. "Have a normal childhood."
But I'm not normal. And I have a destiny, too.
--------
Jillian is apparently tougher than I realized; by the time I finished dragging Pauline's body off to the woods, she was gone. I knew I should've finished her off, but it didn't seem right to do it while she was unconscious. She'd left a trail of blood, however, towards town, and, I assume, the hospital, rather than to the school. I have a little time, at least. I have faith it will be enough.
"Have you seen Pauline?" Bridget asks when I walk into our room. I hesitate, just for a second, shake my head. "She was supposed to study with me tonight," she grumbles. "Maybe I'll go check her room."
"She probably just forgot," I add, casually rifling through my clothes, deciding what I really need. Bridget seems to accept it, and starts gathering up her books.
"Have fun," I tell her as she leaves to start searching.
I don't even fill my duffel, though it almost pains me to leave behind so many of my things. This is another test, I tell myself. I don't need all that stuff. What I need, God will provide.
I hear sirens in the distance as I set off, but they're too late. I've already wasted too much time here, and the thought puts a bit of extra speed into my step, though I know, in my heart, that I'm in no danger.
It's time to go out into the world, and start doing some real good.
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