Friday, October 29, 2010

Ch 5: Week 3

“We’ve talked about how the secret identity protects your loved ones,” Valkyrie lectured at their Wednesday meeting. “As a super hero you will no doubt develop an arch nemesis. This person will go out of their way to hurt you, to make your life hell. Which is another reason you need a secret identity. To escape.”

Lawrence looked around at his classmates. This was a serious subject. America had her hand clasped in his, but he couldn’t tell if it was due to what Valkyrie was talking about, or because she liked holding his hand. It was certainly a pleasant experience for him. Only Black didn’t seem involved in what Valkyrie was saying, and everyone paid rapt attention as she continued.

“We see a lot of destruction, a lot of death, as heroes. You can’t save everyone, and you wont. People will die, possibly in your arms. It’s important to have the real world to come back to. A steady job, a husband or wife. You will need that normalcy to avoid going insane.”

Blue raised her hand. “What about me?” Her voice was very quiet. Valkyrie glanced over at Stone, who had been standing by the door like a large grey guard dog. He stepped into her place at the head of the table. Stone might have been addressing the whole class, but he was looking only at Blue. “Sometimes you have to choose. You can be a freak in the real world, or a hero with no world of his own at all.” Blue’s eyes teared up, and Lawrence hoped she wasn’t going to cry. He hated watching girls cry. “We can talk more later,” he told her, and she managed to blink back the tears and nod. Chameleon nodded along with her--at the moment she was the same color as the wall behind her.

Valkyrie stepped forward again. “This is serious business. You’re all special. No one can deny that. But that doesn’t make your life easier, as most of you have already figured out. You’re life is complicated--you might think you have secrets now, hiding this from your parents, your classmates, but it will get worse. You have to be sure you can do it.”

“But its worth it, isn’t it?” America asked. Lawrence glanced down at their clasped hands. Could the two of them ever be normal together? How could he go home to a normal wife and kids if his girl was out fighting crime too? Of course it was ridiculous to even have such thoughts--one date did not make a marriage--but still.

“Of course it is,” Captain Righteous said. “We should be honored to give everything we have for our country. It’s what being an American, what being a hero, is all about.”

“Well put,” Valkyrie said. “Its as good a place to end tonight’s lecture as any. So. Questions, comments? How is everyone adjusting?” There was some shrugging and muttering, but only America’s hand shot up.

“I was just wondering what the League was doing about Dark Lothario.”

Valkyrie’s eyes went wide and she actually stumbled over her words. “The League--the League--”

Stone stepped forward again, and Valkyrie sank down into a chair. “The League is doing everything that can be done in locating both him and the kidnapped woman.”

“But he’s been caught before,” America continued. “Why was he even released?”

“It’s a complicated matter,” Stone assured. “Dark Lothario is clever and devious. But I promise we have everything under control. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

“But I am worried about it,” America insisted.

“The League is doing it’s best,” Stone said. Next to him Valkyrie was taking long, deep breaths. Lawrence glanced at America to see if she had noticed Valkyrie’s distress, but her face was set in a firm frown, her eyes not leaving Stone’s.

“America,” Lawrence whispered, giving her a hard nudge and nodding at Valkyrie, who was standing up again.

“I want to make it very clear,” Valkyrie said, her voice stronger than Lawrence expected it to be, “Dark Lothario is extremely dangerous.”

“I could take him,” Captain Righteous said.

“No,” Valkyrie said in a terrible voice. Cloud had a bottle of water sitting in front of her on the table--if froze solid. “You are a student. Regardless of how powerful you are or think you are, no matter who your father is. Not one of you will attempt to go after Dark Lothario, or any other super-villain for that matter. You don’t have the skills or the training to do more than help old ladies cross the street. And if we find out you’ve been doing otherwise, you risk being kicked out of the program. Am I clear?”

Around the table everyone nodded, but Lawrence noted that America’s was nothing more than an insincere jerk of her chin.

*****


After the meeting Glory wanted nothing more than to run. She felt like she was being closed into a little box right out in the open, but before she could take even one step KP had grabbed her by the hand. “Don’t even think about it America,” he said, and she couldn’t help but feel a little warm that he knew what she was about to do.

“Stone made me angry,” she said, walking instead of running, and KP followed her. “How can he just blow off something so important?”

“Just because he isn’t sharing with us what the League is doing doesn’t mean they aren’t looking for Dark Lothario.”

“He should never have been let out in the first place,” Glory said. “The loony bin, of all places. Why isn’t he in jail?”

“Well, he can’t be sane, can he? I hope Valkyrie is okay. She didn’t look so good.”

“If she can’t handle him, that means the whole Acropolis League consists of Stone, Romeo, and Ms.X--and we never see her. Stone and Romeo could take him if they really wanted to.”

“You need to relax.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I need to run.”

He laughed and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. It threw her for a minute and she almost stumbled. “Okay. Go run.”

Glory gave him a small smile and sprinted across the quad. It was getting dark and the crowds on campus had pretty much dispersed, so it was easy to maneuver around the occasional straggler, who might feel a rush of wind as she flew by, but she was moving too fast to be more than a pink and blond streak. If she ever ran into anybody it would be bad--so she made her way to the track encircling the soccer feild on the far side of campus. She ran laps, going faster and faster until the wind was roaring in her ears, drowning out all her bad thoughts and feelings. The world disappeared, and she felt free.

She ran until she was exhausted, her legs wobbling as she walked home. At that point it was dark, and she kept her eyes wide, looking for Dark Lothario or any other bad guy, wondering if she could take them, despite what Valkyrie said.

******

Lola decided to coincide her meeting with her minions the same night Glory was at her League meetings so her friend wouldn’t ask where she disappeared to. This secret identity thing was hard work.

She was eager to see what they had come up with, and they did not disappoint. “I knew I made the right decision hiring you two,” she said as she flipped open the folder Hannah handed her. There were short dossiers on five men, complete with photographs of their cars.

She stopped at the third candidate, Richard Wyler. “Ohh…Lotus.” The car was beautiful--sleek, smooth lines and already painted black.

“2009 Lotus Elise.” Kioshi said. “It’s a sweet ride.”

“And Richard Wyler is an ass,” Hannah continued. “He ships his product out of Acropolis, but his factories are in Indonesia. He uses child labor, there are reports of sexual abuse from the managers, low wages is a given, and there is one person of color and one woman on his board of directors--and it’s the same person. Wyler’s take-home is seven million. The woman, Maxine Gross, makes twenty percent less than everyone else on the board.”

“Well,” Lola said. “As soon as I get a new costume the three of us will making a visit to Mr. Wyler.” She shut the folder and gave her minions a smile. “I think we need rewards all around here.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hannah said as Lola stood up. “We’re just happy to serve you, boss.”

“Don’t be silly.” She went over to the closet, opening the door to reveal two black leather dusters. “If we’re going to go intimidate some businessmen, we have to look the part.” Hannah and Kioshi’s faces glowed with pleasure as they pulled on the coats. Hannah looked properly menacing, her broad shoulders filling out the coat nicely, while Kioshi looked elegant and deadly.

“What about you?” Kioshi asked.

Lola shrugged. “I’m still working on that.”

******

Lola found Glory on the couch when she returned, curled up into a ball and staring at the television. “Are you crying?” Lola asked immediately, noting the streaks down her friend’s face before registering what was playing on the screen.

“No,” Glory said. “Look—they’re going to play it again.”

Lola’s attention turned to the TV. The man on the screen was not good looking, and from the looks of his clothes, he was not well off. He was crying too. “She’s my wife,” he was pleading to the camera. “I love her and she loves me—but I’m not sure we could survive this. I don’t have the money—you know I don't have the money, you bastard.” The man gritted his teeth and put his head in his hands. “I just want my wife back.”

“Is it funny and creative now?”

“No,” Lola admitted, her stomach churning. The camera stayed on the man crying for a few moments longer before flipping to a screen with an eight-hundred number and a picture of a not-so-pretty woman in her mid-thirties. “They’re asking for donations?”

“No one can catch Dark Lothario if he doesn’t want caught,” Glory said, her voice stiff. “Stone made that perfectly clear. That’s Gary Wesson. His wife’s name is Sarah. These are real people being hurt. Taking away someone’s free will like that, making them want something they really don't, it’s the worst thing anyone could ever do.”

Lola sighed and picked up the phone. “I’d like to make a donation,” she said when the line picked up. She gave them her credit card information, and she watched Glory when she told them the amount. “Five thousand.” Glory’s face lit up, but Lola felt a pang in her chest. The money was stolen—it wasn’t hers to give. She was probably going to have to rob a jewelry store to cover the credit card bill. She wasn’t concerned about the money--jewelry stores had insurance--but she know Glory would hate knowing where the money came from.

“Thank you Lola. You do care.” Glory jumped off the couch and wrapped her arms around her friend, making Lola feel worse.

“You know,” Lola said carefully, “Sometimes the world would be a better place if some people were brainwashed.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say. Those women—“

“I’m not talking about those women. There are so many bad people in the world. Wouldn’t it be good if you could just go and turn them into Ghandi or Mother Teresa?”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Glory said. “God gave us free will. It’s the greatest gift we have. Taking that away is a crime against Him, against everyone.”

“But doesn’t the end justify the means?”

“No, Lola. People have to want to be good on their own.” Glory hugged her friend again. “It’s a good thing you don’t have any super powers,” she said with a laugh. “We’d all be doomed.”

“Right.”

“I bet you’d make me stop wearing pink.”

“I hate pink,” Lola agreed. “But I would never do that to you.”

Glory smiled. “You wouldn’t?”

“Why would I take away something you love so much?” Lola pulled away from Glory. “I’m tired. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

She collapsed into the bed as soon as she closed the door. She couldn’t expect Glory to agree with her, or even understand her. But she wished that she did.

******

A/N:
Very sorry about the lateness. I confess--I completely forgot about the update yesterday (I had a paper due). I like the last scene in this chapter the best, with Glory and Lola completely at odds, and Glory completely oblivious to it.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

ch 4: Week 2

Lola surveyed her secret lair. Technically it was an efficiency apartment on the bad side of town, but the landlord didn't need brainwashing to be discreet and took cash. She had given the room a makeover, painting the dingy walls a dark red and adding a heavy desk and a few chairs. There was a velvet couch against one wall and an antique folding screen to hide the kitchenette from view.

She felt elegant and evil sitting behind the desk in a large leather chair, and she wondered if she should get a white Persian cat to complete the look. (Then again, white cat hair on black clothing….) She looked out the window over the mess of old factory buildings and run down apartments. This was the worst of the worst neighborhoods—a nearly dead industrial area. Now it was overrun with the city’s crime lords and super-villains (driving over that day she swore she saw The Black Dahlia walking her dog). It was just the place for her.
Her minions were punctual, letting themselves in with the keys she had given them. “Welcome,” she said, spinning away from the window in her chair to face them. She had abandoned the black cat suit for the time being—she wanted to look intimidating, not idiotic. She wore a plain black mask with a tailored black suit and tie.

Hannah was a tall, bulky brunette with a penchant for wearing black muscle shirts. She was a junior and Biology major. She was also the only woman in the weightlifter’s club. (Lola knew the importance of brains and muscle. She picked Hannah out at the campus fitness center.)

Lola found Kioshi in Acropolis’s only dojo. He was twenty-eight and split his time between teaching martial arts and repairing computers, though his degree was in engineering. Besides being talented and smart, he was also pretty. He wore his straight black hair long and pulled back into a biker’s pony-tail and had the most wonderful almond-shaped eyes. She could get lost in those eyes forever…but it was bad form to sleep with your minions.

“Hello Boss,” Hannah said, plopping down in the chair Lola gestured to. Kioshi was all grace as he took his seat. “Nice digs.”

“I try,” Lola said. She had decided that mindless robots were fine for some things, but useless for others. Hannah and Kioshi were their own people—but Lola had put into their consciousness a deep loyalty to her. They loved her and would die to protect her, would withstand any torture before betraying her. Other than that, they were normal. At least, as normal as they usually were. Both were loners without close friends or significant others. Hannah’s parents were dead—Kioshi’s were in Japan. Lola didn't want emotional attachments getting in the way of their duties. Moral ambiguity did not bother them in the slightest, and both were willing (without mind control) to break the law. They were perfect.

“I don’t like coming to the other side of the tracks,” Kioshi said. Acropolis had an ancient monorail system that cut the city more or less in half. Oddly enough, the good neighborhoods fell to the east side, the bad to the west.

“You’ll get used to it,” Lola assured. “This is the place to be if you’re a super-villain you know. I just wanted to invite you both here today so you could meet each other, and I have an assignment for you both. I want to find out who the most corrupt businessman is in this city. Who’s making the most money, who treats their employees badly, that kind of thing.”

“No problem,” Kioshi told her.

“Oh,” Lola added. “And find out what they drive.”

“Why?” Hannah asked.

Lola smiled. “Because I want a new car.”

*****

Glory quickly learned that Memorial Hall was their playground. On the upper level they used the classrooms and the gymnasium, but the lower level held a work-out room and weight room, locker rooms, and a fully functional (and fully stocked) kitchen and lounge. After hand-to-hand everyone showered and changed, only to gather in the lounge to eat sandwiches and hang out.

Glory had a plate in her lap sitting in a love seat, her feet up on the coffee table. The TV was playing Acropolis News at Five and they watched as a reporter interviewed Valkyrie in front of a smoldering building. She was cradling an infant in her arms and had soot smudged across her forehead. “It’s what I do,” Valkyrie was saying, cuddling the baby close to her chest. “Saving a child’s life is always rewarding.” She turned and handed the baby off to its tearful and grateful mother.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Captain Righteous said, sitting down next to Glory. They were now at the end of the second week and he had finally conceded to relax his dress code, wearing khakis and a polo shirt with a metallic gold mask, but he was still a pompous ass.

“Yeah,” Glory said, feeling his hip pressed against hers and wondering how rude it would be to get up and move to the couch with KP and Torch. Across the room Cloud grinned at her and raised her eyebrows, and Glory couldn’t resist sticking her tongue out at her new friend. All of the girls were wonderful (though Blue was a little shy) but the boys were a mixed lot, which depressed Glory. The Kinetic Professor was the best one out of the lot—nice and down to earth. Torch was too unstable (fires occurred regularly now in Memorial Hall) and Black was creepy and silent, looming around and watching everything. And then there was Righteous.

“So what are you doing tomorrow night?” Righteous asked Glory. “I was thinking maybe you and I could cruise the other side of the Tracks and see if anyone needs rescuing. And if not, I’m sure we can find other things to do to amuse ourselves.”

“Gee, Righteous, I wish I could…but I don't have a costume yet and it’s against the rules to display our powers without one….”

“So it’s back to the other things. That’s fine with me.” He had an unnervingly perfect white smile.

Glory’s eyes darted around the room looking for any excuse at all. They fell on the Kinetic Professor, who happened to look up from his sandwich at that moment and meet her gaze. “I can’t,” she said. “Sorry—I didn't want to hurt your feelings—but I’m going out with KP tomorrow.”

“Him?” Righteous said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “He’s a shrimp!”

“I have a thing for shrimps,” Glory said haughtily, and stood up, crossing to take a seat next to KP.

“What’s going on, America?” he asked her, his voice soft like he didn't want anyone to pay attention to him. Unfortunately after Righteous’ outburst, half the room was watching them.

“Don't you remember? You wanted to take me to the movies.”

“Right, I’d forgotten,” he said, and Glory breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought that was Sunday.”

“No, it’s tomorrow. There’s that double feature at the Omniplex.”

“What time?”

“Um, eight.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you,” she whispered under her breath, and tried to pretend Captain Righteous wasn’t scowling at them.

*****

Lawrence was still wondering over America’s frantic invite when he left for his dorm a short time later. Half-way down campus he was about to take off his mask and be himself again with America caught up with him. It was getting dark but somehow she still seemed to glow. “Hey,” she said, “you don’t have to go out with me you know. I shouldn’t have put you in a spot like that. It was wrong of me.”

“You just needed to get Righteous off your back, I understand,” he said, feeling a little disappointed.

“But I do like you,” America said quickly. “You’re the nicest guy in the class.”

“Because everyone wants to be known as a ‘nice guy.’ It’s okay America. You don’t have to let me down easy.” He started to walk faster—pointless when the person you’re running from had a talent for speed.

“Wait a minute! I’m trying to say, do you wanna go out with me sometime? On a real date, not a fake one.”

She looked at him through her pink mask and he saw nothing but glorious blond hair and glitter. But something dark caught out of the corner of his eye and even though it was probably just a stray cat or a bit or rubbish he saw dark hair and dark eyes, the beautiful sexy goddess that stole his mind for the length of a cup of coffee. Her image was gone as fast as it came, like a ghost, and there was only America standing in front of him, her smile wavering because he was taking so long to answer. She is just a ghost, he told himself. You can’t fall in love with a ghost.

“Tomorrow?” he asked America. “The Omniplex at eight?” Her smile lit up the entire quad.

“Great! Here—let me give you my number.” They traded contact information and Lawrence made a note to take his name out of his voicemail message. America surprised him by kissing him on the cheek (well, on the mask) before sprinting off. She was out of view in seconds.

“I guess I have a date,” he said. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching and when the coast was clear, he ducked into a bush to take off his mask. Himself again, he finished his walk to the dorm.

“The Kinetic Professor has a date,” he said, tossing the mask on the extra bed in his dorm room. Somehow there were an uneven number of freshmen and he ended up without a roommate. He didn't think this was a coincidence. Lawrence fell onto the other bed. “I don’t have a date. She doesn’t know me.” He sighed. “She probably never will.” They had been warned against sharing too much personal information even with their classmates. The Kinetic Professor was a blank slate. And so was America the Beautiful. How could two non-people have a relationship?

****

Glory’s guilt over using KP had faded by the time she got home. Actually going out with him was the least she could do, and she had a feeling she would even enjoy it. She didn’t have much in the way of a social life outside of her fellow heroes in training. She didn't have the time.

Lola was curled up on the couch with her psychology book, the eight o’ clock news playing on the TV. With the amount of crime in Acropolis, local news was a big pastime. “Valkyrie saved a baby today,” Glory said, sitting down next to her friend.

“I heard,” Lola said, shutting her book. “The news said the fire was arson. They‘re blaming Inferno. According to his profile on Acropolis Crime Watch he was responsible for
sixty percent of all of the fires in the city last year.”

Glory made a face. “Is there even a reason for that? What is wrong with the criminals in this town?”

“They’re a little crazy I guess. If I were a criminal I wouldn’t waste time setting fire to old houses.”

Glory smiled. “Yeah? What would you do?”

“Target the big boys. That’s where the money is.” She didn’t smile. “The other crooks—the ones making their money off the suffering of others. I would go after them.”

“Sounds like a fast way to get yourself killed.”

Lola shrugged. “Have fun at your training?”

“Always,” Glory said, eager to talk about herself. “Guess what—I have a date for tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“With the Kinetic Professor.”

Lola laughed. “So you don't know your date’s real name.”

“Of course not,” Glory said, though this was a sore point with her as well. “But I bet he’d tell me if I asked him.”

“I bet he wouldn’t.”

“Well, what does that matter? Names are superficial. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

“What’s under the mask?”

“Exactly.”

“But you’re not allowed to take off the masks.”

“Metaphorically, you idiot,” Glory said throwing a couch pillow at Lola.

“Metaphor, huh? College must be making you smarter.”

“Shut up. I’m not stupid.”

“Sorry, sorry,” something caught Lola’s eye on the television screen. “I know you’re not…who’s that?”

Glory was about to call Lola fat in retaliation, but she looked at the screen and momentarily forgot about what they were arguing over. The image was just a photograph on the screen, but for a moment she was completely mesmerized. “Who’s that?” she echoed her friend’s words. The picture was of a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed goatee. He was going grey at the temples and was slightly portly, but he still fit the stereotype of tall, dark, and handsome.

The television answered their question. “Three months after his release from the Gorram Asylum for the Criminally Insane,” the news anchor said, “police have confirmed that the Dark Lothario has struck again. The identity of the victim is being held at this time out of respect for the family. The police caution that all married women be on alert and should not go out after dark alone.”

The segment blinked away to more shots of Valkyrie’s fire and Lola was on her feet getting her laptop. “What do they mean by married women?” Glory asked, twisting around on the couch to face Lola, sitting down at the table.

“Just a sec—oh.” She raised her eyebrows at her screen. “He kidnaps women and seduces them if their husbands don’t pay the ransom.”

“You mean he rapes them?” Glory asked, horrified.

“No, no. He seduces them. That’s his thing.” She looked up at Glory. “Apparently women can’t resist him.”

“This is a joke.” She knew there were some out-there criminals--not everyone with super powers became a hero. Some powers were so evil the League wouldn’t even consider taking them. No doubt Dark Lothario had some sort of brain-washing ability to make the women want him.

“No joke,” Lola said. “He has a profile on Acropolis Crime Watch. One-hundred and fifty kidnappings in the last two years. And ninety-seven of them didn’t pay the ransom. The wives aren’t too upset about it, but the husbands are pissed.”

“I bet.”

Glory could hear Lola’s fingers clicking on the keyboard. “Uh-oh,” she continued. “Apparently there’s video.”

“What!”

“For twenty-nine ninety-five you can order a copy of “Dark Lothario Presents: Hot Wives.” There’s ten volumes.”

“You are such a liar.” Lola had to be making it up to get a rise out of her--no one would do anything so wrong. Glory got up to look over Lola’s shoulder. Sure enough, Lola was looking at a garish porn site. “This is awful.”

“It’s completely legal,” Lola said, reading the fine print at the bottom of the page. “They sign consent forms.”

“But—but it’s like he’s using mind control on them!” Glory said. “That’s evil and horrible.”

“Yes it is,” Lola said, her voice bland.

“Why aren’t you outraged at this?” Glory asked, staring at her best friend.

“I’m not sure it is mind-control,” Lola said. “If it is, yes, I agree. But if he just has some sort of super-charisma…well, they look pretty content, don’t they?” Glory didn't want to watch the short clips playing on the screen.

“Turn it off. It’s disgusting.”

Lola turned off the browser and turned to Glory. “I’m sorry. It’s a nasty thing to do, regardless of how he’s doing it.”

“It’s horrific.”

` “I hope you have a good time on your date tomorrow night,” Lola said. “I’m going to turn in early.” She snapped the computer shut and carried it with her into her bedroom, and Glory couldn’t help but feel like she was being the offensive one, instead of the other way around.

“It’s creepy, Lola,” Glory called after her friend, and sat back down on the couch, changing the channel to some sitcom, but Dark Lothario’s image hung in her mind.

*****

Lola had her computer open, looking first at the picture of Dark Lothario and then at her own reflection in the mirror over the dresser. Her skin tone was a few shades lighter than his bronzed complexion, but she was positive they had the same nose, and his body-type was the masculine version of her curves. It’s not your fault you take after your father… He was the right age—he was a super-villain. Maybe…

Of all the super-villains out there, she thought to herself, and grimaced.

*****

“You don’t side with them, do you?” Glory asked Lola the next day while she was getting ready for her date. She was wearing shorts and a pink t-shirt and was trying to arrange her hair so that her mask’s elastic band wasn’t making a mess of it.

Lola looked up from the shoebox of nail polish she was sifting through. “Them?”

“The super-villains. I know you like to be a little dark and cynical, but you don’t
think that they’re….funny or something, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“You seemed to think Dark Lothario’s scheme was pretty amusing.”

“You have to admit it’s creative. But no, Glory. I think that what you’re doing is a great thing, wanting to help protect people. One day you’re gonna go out there and kick Dark Lothario’s ass, and I’m gonna be cheering you on. I promise.”

Glory turned to her friend and smiled. “Thanks Lola.”

“No problem. Here.” She held up a bottle of shimmering pink polish. “I think this is the right color for you.”

*****

KP was waiting for her outside of the theater when she showed up at eight wearing jeans and a t-shirt with his mask and she remembered the conversation she and Lola were having before Dark Lothario ruined everything. “Hi,” she said, feeling a little shy, which was not normal for her.

“Hey,” he said.

“I don’t really want to see a movie,” she said. “Do you want to get something to eat, maybe just talk?”

“Whatever you want,” he said, so instead of going into the theater they walked down the street towards Fare-Thee-Well Park. It wasn’t large, just a few acres of grass and trees near downtown. There was a fountain and a carousel, though it was closed after dark. They stopped for ice cream along the way and settled down on the edge of the fountain. “If we weren’t super heroes I wouldn’t come here after dark,” KP said.

“I know,” she said, shivering with the thought of Dark Lothario. “Do you ever want to tell anyone who you really are?”

“No way!” he said immediately. “Who I really am in real life, he’s a nobody. He doesn’t know what to do with his life. He doesn’t have friends—girls don’t notice him.” He
looked at her and smiled. “I get all the chicks as the Kinetic Professor. And I have direction.”

“I love being a super-hero and can’t wait to join the League. But I liked being me too—I feel like I don't have the time anymore.”

“America, you’re still you.”

“Am I?”

He smiled. “You’re favorite color is pink, you’re a good athlete—better than me—

“Romeo says I have a natural talent,” she agreed.

“—And you think Captain Righteous is a pompous ass.”

“Everyone thinks that,” she said with a grin. “My favorite movie is Pretty in Pink.”

“The Indiana Jones series,” he replied.

“And I like dogs. Golden Retrievers.”

“I had a turtle when I was a kid.” Glory nodded. “Feel better now?”

“Yes. Thank you.” He took her free hand and squeezed it.

*****

A/N: I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out why I haven’t gotten any comments in three weeks when Secret Identities is obviously amazing. Well, it kind of helps if you turn off the ‘registered user only’ settings on the comments. So now anyone can post anything and please do--I want to know how things are going.

This chapter introduces Dark Lothario and mentions a few more villains. Coming up with names for these characters is the most fun. Obviously Dark Lothario and Captain Righteous are the best so far, but I like Valkyrie’s name too.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Ch. 3: Week 1

Lawrence had to dig his schedule out of his bag yet again as he walked across campus. He was taking fifteen credit hours on top of four League meetings a week. Wendsday nights they met with Stone and Valkyrie to discuss the social and cultural aspects of being a hero--how the system worked, the rules of the league. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays they had combat training, but their instructor, Romeo Avenger, was out of town for the rest of the week, so they wouldn’t start that until Saturday.

It was impossible to keep track, and worse, it was only the second day. He knew he had Calculus next but couldn’t remember at what time or what building. It was a sunless, windy day and a gust managed to pull the paper from his hand. He chased after it, his school satchel bumping against his hip. A girl noticed his plight and stepped on the schedule, pinning it in place until Lawrence could catch up. He barely glanced at her face before he bent down, his eyes following a long tan leg and black high heel. The foot let the paper up when he had hold of it and Lawrence straightened to look into the eyes of his savior.

For a moment he was lost in two black pools, and he forgot where he was or even who he was, but the girl spoke. “Hi.” Immediately the spell was broken and he gazed upon a curvy girl in glasses and a grey oxford shirt paired with a knee-length black skirt. Her long hair dark hair fell into perfect loose curls around her face.

“Um, hi. I mean, thanks.” He had never been tongue-tied over a girl before, not even the stunning America from the League meetings.

“What’s your name?” she asked. She had a commanding voice, one he couldn’t help but answer.

“Lawrence Lawrence.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Really?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Poor thing. I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. Come with me.”

“Okay.” He forgot about his class, forgot everything except the girl--the woman--in front of him. She led the way to the Student Union, one of the newer buildings on campus (meaning that it was only fifty years old). On the second floor was a coffee shop that opened up onto a balcony. They sat at a metal table with steaming mugs, looking out across campus. Most of the buildings were a hundred years old, built out of grey stone quarried from under the city itself. Against the slate colored sky it was a foreboding sight.

“So, Lawrence Lawrence. Tell me about yourself.”

“What’s your name?” he said instead.

“That’s not important,” she said, and he couldn’t help but agree.

“I’m from Ohio. I’m a freshman, major undecided.” He sipped on his coffee.

“Undecided?”

“Math, computers, maybe pre-med? I’m smart, you know, but I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Pre-med,” she said. “I like that in a minion--I mean man.” Minion? She went on. “What about your family?”

He sighed. “They don’t understand me,” he said. “Do you know what it’s like to be the only genius in a town full of hicks?”

She laughed. “Not really. But I know what its like to not be understood by a parent.” Her laugh and smile disappeared. “My mother and I don’t really see eye to eye either. Her only concern is self-gratification. I’m looking for more.”

“I know what you mean. What was your name again?” Hadn’t he already asked her that? Did he forget so quickly? How could he forget the name of a face like that…

“I want to rule the world.” She was so serious he had to laugh, and forgot about her name. “You think that’s funny?”

“Of course not,” he said. “You look capable enough to manage it. But it’s not exactly practical, now is it?”

“Truly great things never are. It’s not a matter of practicality. Don’t you ever just want to fix everything that is unfair and not right? Doesn’t it frustrate you to be powerless?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I have--” He was so comfortable with her he almost let slip his telekinetic abilities but he stopped himself in time. “No one is powerless if they don’t want to be,” he amended. She seemed to accept this.

“Thank you, Lawrence,” she said abruptly, standing up. “You won’t remember this conversation later.”

“I won’t,” he agreed. She turned and walked away.

Later, ten minutes late for calculus, Lawrence would remember having coffee with a beautiful curvy girl with dark hair, but not her name or what they had talked about.

*****


Lola hurried down the hall, pushing her way through the throngs of students that seemed to congest the Union at all times. Lawrence Lawrence wasn’t as susceptible to her power as she would like, and it pained her. It was very rare to come across someone who could shake her. Worse than that, she found the fact that he had given her trouble charming. “Pull yourself together,” she said as she made her way out of the building. He’s cute too, she thought. Like a puppy. She’d chosen him because he looked harmless and young, easy to control. Well, no one would judge from the looks of her that she was a super villain either.

It had started to rain, a condition she noticed was prevalent in Acropolis. (Along with heavy clouds, mist, and fog.) She had an hour to kill before heading to English Comp. She was using her spare time between classes to scope out potential minions, but so far had come up short. There were a few prospects, but Lawrence Lawrence was not among them. She smiled at his double name and cursed herself for it. She was a super villain. She didn’t have time for silly schoolgirl crushes. She had work to do.

*****

By the end of the first week Glory felt like she was going to collapse from exhaustion. She slept most of Saturday, waking up after one and wandering into the living room. Aside from the two bedrooms and bathroom the apartment was one large room, and she found Lola at the dining room table surrounded with her schoolbooks, weak sunlight streaming in through the window behind her.

“It’s Saturday!” Glory protested.

“Well, my majors are just a little more complicated than yours,” Lola said, speaking of Glory’s plan to become a kindergarten teacher.

“You’re going to change your mind about this double doctorate thing.” Glory thought Lola was crazy, planning to go into both Psychology and Bio-engineering. It was all too complicated. Glory could only conclude that her friend was insane.

“I’m not,” Lola said. “What are your plans for the day?”

“I have training,” Glory said proudly, reminding Lola that she too, was something special. She might not be as smart, but dammit, she was a super hero.

“So how do you like being a super hero?” Lola asked, her eyes still scanning her books.

“Oh, you know.” Glory couldn’t help but grin. “I love it! Everyone has powers so I don’t have to feel like a freak, and I’m learning so much. We all have to take combat training because Stone says that having super powers won’t save you from most situations. You’ll never guess who our instructors is.”

“Who?”

“Romeo Avenger.”

She knew even Lola had to be impressed, and she was. “He has the most perfect cheekbones,” she breathed. “And his technique is flawless,” she added, trying to save herself from teenaged lust. Glory knew Lola well enough to know when she had a crush, even if all of their other friends in high school had considered her fairly asexual.

“I can’t believe that all these great, famous heroes are going to be my teachers, my mentors.”

“Well, if you find you have to sleep with your professor to pass, go with Romeo. Or Stone,” Lola mused. “Do you think all of him is hard as granite?”

“You’re gross,” Glory laughed. “I’m gonna make breakfast.”

“It’s lunch time,” Lola said, turning her attention back to her books.


After Glory ate and showered she headed towards campus. It was a two-mile walk and Lola offered to let her use the BMW, but Glory had other plans. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt but as soon as she was clear from the apartment she ducked into a phone booth and put on her mask. (There seemed to be a phone booth on every block in Acropolis, even though most of the phones didn’t work anymore.) Safe in her secret identity, she started running at a moderate speed, and traveled the two miles in five minutes. She wasn’t even out of breath when she got to the gymnasium in Memorial Hall.

The ‘Memorial’ part of the building’s name referred to a super heroes’ memorial, and there were lists of fallen heroes carved into the outside wall. It was a large wall. With the mask she was one of them, and she looked on those names with pride. She didn’t even consider her own mortality. She was going to be the greatest. She knew it.

*****

Lawrence came to his first combat training wearing a mask like everyone else. It was just from a normal costume store--black satin that covered most of his face. It wasn’t as hot as the ski mask and looked a lot better. “I like it,” America said when he got to the gymnasium. She was sitting on the floor wearing tiny shorts and a string tank top, doing stretches with her legs in an almost full spread. It was a glorious sight, but Lawrence couldn’t help but think of the mysterious girl he’d had coffee with the second day of school. Her face haunted him every night in his dreams, and he began to think she was a dream. “But it hides so much of your face,” America continued.

“That’s not a bad thing,” he commented, sitting down next to her, but not too close.

“I bet you’re adorable,” she said. That would be the problem, he thought, blushing all the same and glad he was wearing such a full mask.

Lawrence was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, and he saw that most of the others had dressed accordingly. The Chameleon was wearing a karate uniform (she was a purple belt), and Captain Righteous stomped into the room last, again in full gold body armor and large heavy gold boots. Romeo Avenger came in at exactly three o’ clock. Their instructors were exceptionally punctual and never early.

Romeo Avenger was in his late twenties, muscular but not in a bulky way like Stone. He had a dancer’s body, accentuated by the tights and billowy poet’s shirt that made up his costume. His mask did not cover much of his face, which was exceptionally beautiful (or so Lawrence’s mother and other female relatives claimed). Around him he heard the girls sigh. “Those tights leave nothing to the imagination,” he heard Cloud whisper.

“Codpiece,” Chameleon said with a snicker. “He thinks he’s David Bowie.”

“No,” Cloud said, “He has better hair than Bowie.” Romeo Avenger pretended not to notice their whispers, but ran his fingers through his blond hair all the same.

“Welcome to Hand to Hand 101,” he said. “This will be one of the hardest classes you will take, and it is continuous. You will be training your entire life, so you might as well get used to it now. On your feet, let’s do some warm-ups.”

Everyone got up off the floor, except Righteous, who was already standing. Lawrence imagined it was hard to get up and down with all that gear on, and sure enough, a few minutes into their warm-up (which, Lawrence was aghast to learn, included a few dance steps) Romeo Avenger approached the Captain. Righteous was clanking around with his ungraceful attempts, so that Black, who stood next to him, complained he couldn’t hear the music they were moving to.

“Lose the armor,” Romeo Avenger said.

“I’m Captain Righteous. I need my armor.”

“I don’t care who you are. If you can’t follow simple instructions and you can’t do the work expected of you in my class, you shouldn’t be here and you shouldn’t be in this program.”

“My father--”

“I know your father. He’s a graceless oaf too.” Lawrence had to smile when Righteous decided to do as their teacher asked, and spent the rest of the class in an undershirt and boxers, still wearing his gold helmet to preserve his identity.

*****

A/N: So how is everybody liking it so far? This is my favorite chapter to date--I love the way Lola and Lawrence react to each other and I love how the girls drool over Romeo Avenger.

I’ve been trying to decide who exactly everyone looks like. Romeo Avenger is definitely Cary Elwes circa Princess Bride. Lola is a young Callie from Grey’s Anatomy, and Lawrence looks like John Francis Daley circa somewhere between Bones and Freaks and Geeks. I’m leaning towards the blond Heather in Heathers for Glory, or the character Glory from Buffy. (That sounds nice and confusing.) Stone is very obviously Ron Pearlman.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Ch. 2: Day One

He had traveled hundreds of miles and yet Lawrence could still hear his mother’s shrieks in his ears as he pulled his pickup into one of the underground parking decks at the University Noir. His mother was furious that he had turned down Purdue for a second-rate state school, more furious that he wouldn’t tell her why.

He wished he knew. The letter from the League of Heroes had been such a shock--not even his parents were aware of his telekinesis. He wasn’t even aware of it until he hit puberty at fourteen and objects started flying around the room during his…alone time. Somehow he got through high school without anyone finding out. He was enough of a freak without super-powers.

His first instinct was to ignore the letter, but in the end he knew that this might just be the direction he was lacking. It wasn’t as though he had other plans. It was right there under his yearbook picture: Undecided.

Lawrence picked up the ski mask from the seat and pulled it on, hiding his medium-length brown hair and fine facial features. At least no one will be able to tell I look like a wimp, he thought with a glance in the rear view mirror. If he became a super hero he could wear a mask--no one would ever call him ‘baby-face’ again.

*****

Glory was still floored by her good luck, and ever so grateful for her best friend, Lola. Lola’s mother was loaded, a famous author (though Glory had never read any of her books). As a result, she paid for a two-bedroom apartment in downtown Acropolis for Lola to live in. Lola decided to give the second bedroom to Glory.

They moved in at the beginning of August and had settled in immediately, feeling the freedom of living on their own. It was a beautiful apartment taking up the second floor of a large Victorian house a few miles from campus. It even had a fireplace. Glory grew up in the house she had just left and it was wonderful to live in a place that hadn’t collected twenty years of clutter.

Setting the apartment to order had kept both her and Lola properly occupied, but it was the fifteenth, and it was the evening of her first meeting with the League of Heroes. She exited her room wearing a new pink Jackie O suit complete with hat. She had a half-mask in matching pink (with sparkles) and snapped it into place. “What do you think?” she asked Lola, who sat, not dressed, in front of the television with a bowl of popcorn.

“You look very nice,” Lola assured, pushing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses up on her face and stretching her long bare legs out in front of her. She could be so dowdy and plain in private Glory had noted, a far cry from her school appearance, which was always smooth and polished and even slightly sexy in a dark, bookish way. “Have you decided what to call yourself?”

“America the Beautiful,” Glory answered. Lola, to her credit, did not laugh. “I wanted something that would both convey my patriotism as well as my natural Glory,” she continued. “It’s not fair that I’m not allowed to use my real name.” This was the only part she was not thrilled with—she had not come onto her name the way most people had, and it made it all the more important to her.

“There is a reason for secret identities,” Lola told Glory. “You know you shouldn’t have told me about this.”

“I couldn’t help myself!” Glory exclaimed. “Lola, nothing good has ever happened to me, and you know it. Not all of us were blessed with your perfect life.” Lola rolled her eyes, and Glory couldn’t understand why she couldn’t be excited for her. She was Cinderella going to the ball. “And now, this is it. I’m going to be the super hero Mom and Dad always hoped I would be.”

Both of her parents had nominal talents, but had never done anything with them. Her mother’s heat vision couldn’t do more than boil a pan of water and her father had the poor luck of being born with super-digestion, which meant he could eat a bicycle and never got food poisoning--but he couldn’t fight crime with his stomach lining of steel. At the age of five Glory demonstrated her super-speed. Her parents were so happy they changed her name from Rachel to Glory, and named their other children appropriately as they came. Glory had some vague memories of being Rachel, but they weren’t important to her. Glory was her name, and she had every intention of living up to it.

“Good luck,” Lola told her. “I hope you do well, I really do.” She could tell the words were forced, but Glory was willing to accept them. Lola was trying, and she had been so good to her.

“Thanks Lola--you’re the best friend a girl could ever hope for.”

“Go, or you’ll be late.”

*****

Lola let out a sigh of relief when Glory left. She loved her friend, really she did, but it was exhausting living with someone so blond and perky. She hoped that once school started and Glory found out that being a super hero was actual work, she would calm down.

She was glad that Glory’s talents had been recognized. She was disappointed that they were now secret enemies, and the guilt of this knowledge led to asking Glory to live with her. It might have been a mistake, but she didn’t care. Despite their differences they had been best friends since the second grade. She couldn’t throw that away.

For a few weeks after Glory got her letter Lola watched the mailbox for one for herself, not because she wanted in but because the invite would have been nice--but nothing came. She couldn’t believe that the League didn’t want her--her talents were much more impressive than running really fast. But maybe they didn't know—she had taken more pains than most to hide what she really was.

As soon as she was sure Glory was gone from the building she got up and went to her room. She opened her hope chest and took out her lycra jump suit and mask, changing out of the boxers and beat up t-shirt she had been lounging in. She’d done her best to diet over the summer, truly she did, but the suit didn’t fit her any better, though after much consideration she decided that while her legs and ass were indeed plus-sized, they didn’t look too bad. If only she could say the same about her stomach and breasts (her mother was right--her bra spoiled the lines of the suit terribly).

She was off to do what any good super-villain would. Size up the competition.

*****

Lawrence found room 116 of Memorial Hall easily enough. It was a conference room with a large oval table taking up most of the space. He was one of the first ones there--the others being a blue girl in a blue dress with matching mask and a guy wearing a black suit and tie with dark glasses. The blue girl really was blue--she had African-American features but her hair was indigo, her skin a vivid cerulean. He couldn’t tell if it was her natural coloring or makeup.

Almost immediately Lawrence felt like an under-dressed country bumpkin, which he was. Most of the people filing into the room were either in some sort of costume or had come dressed to impress. No one else was wearing jeans, and everyone (aside from the guy in the glasses) had proper masks--not a ski mask.

Lawrence found himself sitting next to a stunning blond girl in a pink suit and pillbox hat. Her mask was decorated with glitter. “Hi,” she said, her voice all eagerness and bounce. “I’m Gl--America the Beautiful.”

“The Kinetic Professor,” he said, feeling slightly silly, but not so much. After all, anything was an improvement to Lawrence Lawrence.

“Can I call you KP? I really need to get used to this whole name thing,” she continued on before he could answer her question. “I don’t see why secret identities are so vital anymore--it’s not like the world doesn’t know super powers exist.”

“It’s tradition,” the guy sitting to America’s right said. He was dressed in some sort of gold body armor and had a masked helmet. “A proud and honorable one,” he added. “My father is Captain Honor. I am Captain Righteous.”

Lawrence tried not to laugh, but America found this fascinating. “Really? That’s exciting. Both of my parents have super-powers too.”

“Who are they?” Captain Righteous asked.

“They’re--um, nobody.” America flushed under her mask.

“It’s okay,” Lawrence told her, patting her hand. “My parents don’t even have any powers.” She beamed at him and the Captain, not finding them of any interest at all, turned his attention to the person on the other side of him.

At exactly six the door opened and two people stepped into the room. They needed no introduction--Lawrence recognized them immediately as Valkyrie and Stone. They were famous heroes and always on TV. Valkyrie looked like a Norse warrior queen in armor and white fur. She had the ability to turn any liquid into ice and her weapon of choice was a special sword that froze as it cut. Stone had skin the consistency of granite and could not be easily injured. His fists were like hammers, his chest a brick wall. Stone could not pass as a normal human being. His skin was a mottled grey color, and his abnormally tall height would stick out in any crowd.

“Welcome new recruits,” Valkyrie said, her voice warmer than one would expect. “I want to start by saying how happy we are to see you here, and we hope that over the course of the next four years you all will find a place within the League.”

“That being said,” Stone continued. “This is not something to be taken lightly. The purpose of this meeting is to help you to decide if you even want to become a super hero. Of course we hope that you do, but we understand that the League is not a place for everyone. It’s a dangerous lifestyle, and not always rewarding.” He did not smile like Valkyrie. His gravelly voice was grim and matter-of-fact. Lawrence glanced at America—she was still beaming.

His partner did her best to smile and step forward. “Let’s all start by introducing ourselves and sharing our abilities. Remember to use your super hero identity, not your real name.”

America’s hand shot up in the air. “Please Ms. Valkyrie, but why do we have to keep our identities secret?”

“Like Stone said--it’s dangerous. Nearly all of you will end up with a nemesis at some point in your lives. Do you really want your loved ones--your parents, grandparents, significant others, even your children--killed because of who you are?” America and several others looked sufficiently cowed. “That’s what I thought. Secrecy is key. I know some of you have already broken the rules and told people that you are being considered for the League. You have put them and yourselves in danger. Over the next four years you will learn many secrets. Secrets that people will want to torture and kill you over. Stone and I don’t even know who you really are. Only the head of the Acropolis branch of the League, Ms. X, knows the truth. Now,” she continued, as bright as ever, “Let’s start on the left side and work our way around.”

“I’m La Blue Girl,” the blue girl said. “I am a universal translator, which means I can speak and understand any language. I also have atypical pigment.” So the blue skin was real. The Chameleon had, like La Blue Girl, atypical pigment, but she was able to change her coloring at will and demonstrated by blending into the wall behind her. Captain Righteous bragged that he possessed both super-strength and super-speed, leaving poor America a little depressed when she admitted that she only had super-speed.

“We should race them,” The Chameleon said, and everyone laughed. Lawrence would put his money on America any day--Righteous was an ass.

Even Captain Righteous was impressed with Cloud—she could fly. In fact, it took some amount of energy to just stay in her chair, and through the evening Lawrence would notice that she was hovering instead of sitting. Second-to-last in the group was Torch. Lawrence immediately knew something was wrong. Torch was small and pale, his eyes huge and wide behind his mask. They were eyes that had seen terrible things. “I’m t-t-Torch,” he stuttered, seeming to shrink into himself. “I’ve been diagnosed as com-combustible.”

“What do you blow up?” Righteous asked and Torch jumped in his seat. In the corner of the room a fake potted plant burst into flames.

“E-everything.” Torch said, staring at the plant. “I d-don’t like to be surprised.”

Righteous scoffed at this, but said no more. The last member of the group disappeared into the hall and returned a moment later with a fire extinguisher and calmly put out the fire. He set the extinguisher down but remained standing. “I’m The Man in Black,” he said. He was the guy in the suit and glasses Lawrence noticed when he came in.

“And what do you do?” America asked.

“That’s classified.”

Valkyrie and Stone looked at each other. “Classified?” Stone asked.

“Ms. X will explain,” The Man in Black said. “You may all call me Black for short.”

There were eight of them all together, and among them Lawrence felt like he had one of the more useful talents, which made him feel pretty good about the situation. Super hero. It was an odd choice in majors (though technically the classes they would be taking did not give them college credit or affect their transcripts) but an intriguing one. As a super hero he could be someone, instead of blending in with all the other doctors or scientists or teachers…

America caught up with him as they left the building a few hours later. “So do you think you’ll join the program?” she asked him, and it registered that a beautiful blond had been talking to him all night. That never happened at home and, he was shamed to admit, gave the super hero thing points.

“For the first year I think,” he said. They were allowed to back out anytime during the first year. It was basically designed, Lawrence knew, to weed out the weak. He hoped he didn’t turn out to be one of them.

“I’m going all the way,” America said. “This has been my parents’ dream for me since I was a little girl.”

“But is it yours?”

She cocked her head at him, as if she didn’t understand the question. “Of course.”

*****

Lola watched the super-recruits exit the building, noting that Glory left with a skinny guy in a ski mask. She was a little put off by the guy in the gold armor, intrigued by the blue girl. Atypical pigment tended to crop up when there were several generations of talent on both sides of the family--Lola wondered what it was she did. As a whole the group didn’t seem especially threatening--after all, she had the power of mind control on her side.

She turned around and hurried home, needing to get back before Glory noticed she was out. She knew she didn’t need to sneak around--all she had to do was look Glory in the eye and tell her any lie, and it would be real. But she wasn’t like her mother. She didn’t want to control her best friend. It sort of defeated the purpose of having one. Once school started she would round up a couple of minions to do her bidding (whether they wanted to or not).

The sun was setting and downtown all of the shoppers were hurrying to their cars to beat the darkness. Lola walked past a woman leading a little boy by the hand and the woman snatched up the child and hurried in the opposite direction. Lola couldn’t help but smile. Even in her ill-fitting costume she was striking fear into the hearts of normal people.

Crime was rampant in Acropolis. Decent people did not go out after dark, because they were never sure what they would encounter. It was the perfect place for a beginning villain like Lola, but it was a good place for Glory too. There was plenty of crime to practice on.

Lola ducked into the parking deck where she had left her car and started the engine. She didn’t want to be connected to the BMW while she was in costume, especially near the university. She needed a new car as much as she needed minions. Driving, she passed Glory taking fast but even steps in the towering heels she was wearing, and Lola had to laugh. Super-speed was worthless in the wrong footwear. She pulled up behind the house and took the back stairs to the apartment. By the time Glory came in she was pulling her t-shirt back over her head and kicking the costume under the bed.

Glory barged into her bedroom. “I have so much to tell you!” she exclaimed, and went on to describe all of her classmates and teachers. Maybe rooming with a super hero wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

*****

A/N:
I can't wait to get into the guts of this story. Of my three characters, I'm not sure who I love more. I also love Captain Righteous. He's part Capt. Hammer, part Capt. Hero, with a dash of right-wing BS thrown in for good measure. If there is a print version of this La Blue Girl's name will be changed to La Fille Bleu because there already is a La Blue Girl, but I couldn't resist adding the reference. If you don't get it, its probably for the best. :)

If anyone has a project wonderful account you might consider sticking an ad up on that box on top of the screen, if only to fill up the white space. I doubt it'll ever cost more than 2 cents a day, if that. :) Right now the ads are linked to Thistledown too since I don't have enough content to get ads on this site yet.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Ch. 1 Graduation

Lola Merriweather folded up her graduation gown and put it in the hope chest at the foot of her bed. She breathed in the smell of cedar and smiled. High school was over and she would be starting college at The University Noir in the fall. She had the rest of her life in front of her. And boy, did she have plans for that.

There was a sharp knock at her bedroom door and her mother poked her head in the room. She had dark hair just like Lola, but her skin was white-pale while Lola‘s was a deep bronze, her eyes blue while her daughter’s were almost black. Her father’s skin tone, her father’s eyes, she’d been told. She didn’t know who her father was. “Hey baby,” her mother said, coming in the rest of the way holding a wrapped box. “I brought you something.”

Lola sat down on the bed and took the box, her hands shaking as she opened it. It was a shirt box, and it was light. She knew what was in it. “Really?”

“Just open it.” She opened the lid and found neatly folded black cloth. She smiled as she picked up the lycra body suit by the shoulders and held it up. “I hope you want to go with me tonight. It’s your graduation present.”

“Of course. What are we doing?”

Her mother gave her a wicked sort of grin, her red lipstick making a slash across her face. “Bank job.”

“Bank job.” Her mother liked bank jobs. Their beautiful five bedroom, three thousand square foot house was proof, as well as their summers in Europe and the twin black BMWs they drove. Anyone who asked was convinced that she was a world-famous writer instead of Mesmera, super-villain extraordinaire. “Cool,” Lola said. “I’m going to go on a bank job.”

***

Across town Glory Hart was tossing her graduation gown on the floor in the room she shared with her sister. She knew she should have been happy, but she just felt…empty. She didn’t know what was next. In high school she was Glory. She was blond and beautiful and was captain of the squad, president of every club. So she wasn’t so hot at schoolwork, but that didn’t matter because she was popular and Glorious.

But high school was over, and now she was nothing.

She went downstairs where her mother was cooking dinner, assisted by her little sister, Truth. Her brother Justice was setting the table, making faces at the strawberry cake at its center, all berries and whipped cream. “You made my favorite,” Glory said, surprised because strawberries were expensive so early in the season and Justice was allergic.

“Yeah,” Justice scowled. “And I get nothing.”

“Hush up,” their mother said from the stove where she was adding spices to spaghetti sauce. “There’s vanilla ice cream in the freezer.” She looked over at Glory. “Could you get the mail? In all the excitement this morning I forgot.”

“Sure.”

“Glory? I’m proud of you.” She was the oldest and knew her parents couldn’t afford college. She hadn’t even applied. What’s the point? She thought as she walked out to the mailbox in front of the duplex they lived in. Proud of me for what? You get straight C’s and you get a piece of paper. There is no effort involved. There is no Glory in it.

Among the bills and junk mail was a letter with her name on it from the University Noir. There has to be some mistake, she thought as she ripped open the letter right there on the sidewalk.

“Dear Miss Hart. We have the pleasure to inform you that you have been selected for a very special program at University Noir. This is a full scholarship opportunity and should not be taken lightly. If you are interested you will come to the University, room 116 of Memorial Hall on August the fifteenth at six PM. You will not tell anyone that you are attending and must come in disguise. If you are not wearing a mask you will be turned away and will not be able to enter the program. Please prepare a name to refer to yourself, as your actual name should remain classified. You have great talents, Miss Hart, and we look forward to working with them.”

It was signed ‘Ms. X, representative of the League of Heroes.’

Glory had to sit down right there on the sidewalk. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” Everyone knew about her super-speed. It was a hard thing to hide when you got kicked off the track team for it. “Oh my God!” Her shrieks of excitement echoed down the street. She had always hoped to be selected for the League. She’d never imagined it would actually happen.

*****

Somewhere in a small southern Ohio town Lawrence Lawrence hated his life. He really, truly did. He hated it as someone pushed a cup of beer into his face as they walked by him, and he wondered why he even came to his cousin Jeff’s graduation party. Probably because his parents were hosting it and it was supposed to be his party too. Lawrence was not friends with most of the people there, and didn’t want to be. He licked at the beer dripping from his nose and went inside. “Where are you going baby brother?” his older brother demanded as he moved through the kitchen.

“Nowhere,” he replied, resisting the urge to punch his brother. Nothing amused the people in his family more than pointing out that he looked years younger than his eighteen. Sometimes he felt it too, to tell the truth, even when he knew he was usually the smartest person in the room at any given time.

He ignored the creaking of the old farm house’s floorboards as he crossed the living room and went upstairs, ready to just be alone. He slammed the door to his room and pulled off his shirt to wipe the rest of the beer off his face. He tossed the shirt on the back of his desk chair, his eyes falling on the pile of college acceptance letter. Dozens of them, all offering full or partial scholarships, but he hadn’t made a decision. There was a new one, unopened at the top of the pile. “Yet another!” his mother had scrawled across the front of the envelope in pink pen. It was from University Noir. But he hadn’t applied there.

He made the envelope fly across the room as he collapsed on the bed. It fell on his bare chest and he opened it. As he read his hands began to shake. They knew. He didn’t know who ‘They’ were and how they knew, but they did. They had found out about his telekinesis. He had been invited to join the League of Heroes.

*****

Lola stepped out of her bedroom that evening wearing her new lycra bodysuit. It was made of a very shiny material, which made every lump and fat deposit on her body visible. Her mother tried to hide a frown. “Oh honey. What did I tell you about eating all those doughnuts?”

“Shut up,” Lola grumbled.

“I can see the lines of your bra and panties, dear. You’re not supposed to wear any underneath.” Lola glared at her mother, thin and lithe in her bodysuit and high heeled boots. She had a dancer’s body, while Lola did…not.

“I’m not going out without underwear and I need my bra,” she snapped back. She had wanted this outfit since she was a little girl, but now that she was in it, she wasn’t feeling too happy. She felt nominally better when he put on the mask that covered most of her face. At least no one would know who she was, and it finally made her contact lenses worth the hassle.
“It’s not your fault you take after your father,” the great Mesmera assured her. “Let’s go.” Take after her father. After eighteen years of hearing how much he was like him she hoped her mother might give her a name or show her a picture…no luck. She was done wondering. That was the real reason she had applied to the University Noir—it was situated in Acropolis Connecticut, one of the most crime-ridden cities in the nation. She was sure that her father was a super-villain, and every super-villain passed through Acropolis at one point in his or her careers, including her mother.

The house had been built specially—they went through a false wall to get down to the sub-basement under the actual basement. The black Mesmermobile was parked in a lofty underground garage, and her mother used a remote to open the doors and tossed the keys to Lola. “You drive.”

Lola didn’t feel as bad about her outfit once she was behind the wheel and racing towards Third National. She was finally allowed to go on a bank heist. Her first job as a super-villain. It might have only been a bank job, but it took money to live well.

They pulled up behind the building. It wasn’t late and the place had only just closed, but Mesmera didn’t need to break locks and security codes like other villains. She had Talent, after all. “Just follow my lead,” she told Lola, and they got out of the car. Mesmera began to pound on the door in the back of the building, screaming and crying loudly. “Murder! Rape! Help, please someone let me in!” Lola noted a doorbell and rang it over and over again, until eventually someone opened it. “Thank God,” Mesmera said, pushing her way into the building.

A security guard had opened the door for them. “Now wait a minute,” he started, but Mesmera was faster. She grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look into her eyes. “Is the bank manager here?” she asked him. He nodded wordlessly. “Take us to him.”

Lola followed her mother as they made their way down a hall and into an elevator. The man stared ahead with glassy eyes. He took them up to the top floor and opened up an office. The bank manager was on his computer. He looked up at them. “What is this?”

“People here to see you sir,” the guard said.

“We’re just going to sit quietly and wait for the building to clear out,” Mesmera said, sitting down in one of the chairs and Lola did the same. “You may go,” she told the guard.
“You won’t remember us.”

“You won’t remember us,” Lola echoed. She had inherited her mother’s mind control. She hadn’t had as much practice as Mesmera, but for the past few years she had been brainwashing half her teachers into thinking she was earning A’s instead of barely passing. She couldn’t waste brainpower and time on classes like Gym or Literature when she had bigger things to think about. Much bigger. Her mother might be content brainwashing people for bank jobs, but Lola was going to be more. She was going to change the world.

“What shall we call you?” Mesmera asked as they sat waiting for the building to empty out.

“Mesmera Junior? Hypno Girl?”

“I need to think about it,” Lola said. She already had an idea. Dr. Brain maybe, or the Great Controller. The Great something because she was going to be great. She was going to be so much more than a bank robber. Especially one that didn’t need guns or special equipment. What kind of bank robber simply walked into the safe with the manager in tow?

Finally the building was empty, and Mesmera stood up and gave the manager a look and a smile. “Let us into the vault.”

On the way down the stairs a cell phone rang and Mesmera retrieved it from somewhere on her persons. “How did you do that?” Lola asked.

“I’m a professional—Jolie Merriweather. Yes, Glory, she’s here.” She handed the phone to Lola. “You gave your friend my number?”

“For an emergency,” Lola argued. “Glory, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing nothing,” her best friend said, her voice coming fast and breathless. “Why don’t you have your phone? I’m going to Noir with you this fall! Lola—I got accepted into the League!”

“Wait, what?”

“They said not to tell, and I won’t, beyond you and mom and dad of course, but my life isn’t over, Lola. I’m going to be one of them. A super hero.

“Oh,” Lola said, her blood going cold. “Good for you.”

*****

A/N:
So this is my love letter to Joss Whedon and Dr. Horrible. (DES was a love letter to Buffy). When it first aired I was just going to write some Captain Hammer slash fic, but this is a better use of my time. :)

I have to say, I am in love with all three of these characters. They are all perfect.

Updates will still be once a week, I think on thursdays.

And sorry about the two character same name thing between this and Thistledown. I was working on this when the other Lawrence needed a name, and I didnt think this was going to go anywhere...I'm gonna change the Thistledown's Lawrence's name, because it really belongs to this character.