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About Traditional Art / Hobbyist Johann-Octavius X. GansMale/United States Recent Activity
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Twenty One
Sabrina Drummond had been pacing up and down her cramped apartment for days on end. Her best friend... one of her only friends she'd made since moving to New York City, was missing. Not only was the missing girl her friend, but, her IDOL - Valor Girl - the very reason that she'd gone into the superhero business, once she gained superpowers of her own. She wasn't worried that the mighty superheroine had gotten herself into some sort of super-trouble that threatened her life, she was worried that Valor Girl had gotten herself into a depression that was going to make her do something drastic without thinking it through.
Valor Girl, aka Charlotte Trent, had become very close to the girl who wore a star on her face to fight crime. VG had taken Starlet, as Sabrina called herself when in 'uniform', under her wing. She'd introduced Starlet to so many super-people in the New York area, and made her feel like she
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Xailenrath-Universe's Profile Picture
Johann-Octavius X. Gans
Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
United States
Monopedal diabetic cartoonist with a streak of bad luck as wide as Mrs. Miller's backside.
If my upper lip got any stiffer, I'd be a platypus.
The 8 facts thing seems to be going around again, recently, so ---

Universal Destruction 2: Captain Gaia by Xailenrath-Universe

1. - Captain Gaia has elemental powers - production/control/manipulation of earth, fire, wind and water, a well as enhanced strength and durability. She flies by way of direct application of hurricane force winds in a localized area on her own body.

2. - Though unsanctioned superheroes are persona non grata in her reality, she is one of the VERY few supers loved and respected by the general populace.

3. - Unlike many (of my) realities, where inducting supers into the Armed Forces is illegal, on Captain Gaia's Earth, America has created a special branch of the Armed Forces specifically to utilize metahumans. Though, for the most part, they are generally used in a crowd control/damage control capacity, the elite soldiers are used as backup for, or in lieu of the very few costumed superheroes allowed to operate on American soil.

4. - Captain Gaia, aka Roya Baker, is a happily married woman and mother to an 8 year old daughter, named Grace.

5. - With concentration, Captain Gaia can manifest and wield lightning, but, the practice fatigues her, greatly, and pains her, as she is not immune to electricity.

6. - She rarely uses her pyrokinetic ability if she can help it, unless absolutely necessary, as she is mildly afraid of fire. In times of stress, she finds it difficult to control and wield.

7. - Captain Gaia once saved the life of the President of the United States, Charles Trent, whom, although powerless and normal in her reality, is, on a parallel reality's Earth, the superhero known as Commander Valor.
SCARRed For Life 001 by Xailenrath-Universe

8. - Captain Gaia was one of the last metahuman survivors of a planetary war with an army of cosmic marauders who've made it their mission to wipe out entire realities that house superheroes.

No tags this time.
  • Listening to: "The Power of Love" - Huey Lewis and the News
  • Reading: The Flash
  • Watching: where I'm going
  • Playing: a losing game
  • Eating: chocolate chip cookie
  • Drinking: coffee

Journal History


Sabrina Drummond had been pacing up and down her cramped apartment for days on end. Her best friend... one of her only friends she'd made since moving to New York City, was missing. Not only was the missing girl her friend, but, her IDOL - Valor Girl - the very reason that she'd gone into the superhero business, once she gained superpowers of her own. She wasn't worried that the mighty superheroine had gotten herself into some sort of super-trouble that threatened her life, she was worried that Valor Girl had gotten herself into a depression that was going to make her do something drastic without thinking it through.

Valor Girl, aka Charlotte Trent, had become very close to the girl who wore a star on her face to fight crime. VG had taken Starlet, as Sabrina called herself when in 'uniform', under her wing. She'd introduced Starlet to so many super-people in the New York area, and made her feel like she was part of The Life, as though born to it. Now, Valor Girl was gone. She'd sent Sabrina cryptic texts about 4 or 5 nights ago, claiming that she was going to get to the bottom of a few things, and that she might not be around as often as she had been. Starlet called and called her friend, but kept getting sent to voicemail. Texts went unanswered. Starlet, as Sabrina, had even gone to her friend's college dorm room while in civilian identity, looking for 'Charlotte Trent', but, VG's roommate, who didn't know that she was sharing space with a bona fide superheroine, said that she hadn't seen or talked to Charlotte in days.

Starlet had canvassed half the city via flying, looking for some sign of her pal, with no such luck. She was about to return to that activity for the third time that week, when there was a knock at her door. She opened it just a crack, with the chain still on. Superpowers or no, this was still New York City. Outside the door stood a slender girl with brown hair, not unlike that of Valor Girl, herself, but, her eyes were an odd and lovely shade of violet.
"Sabrina Drummond?", the visitor inquired.
"Yes?", Sabrina answered, not sure what to make of her. No one outside Sabrina's civilian job as a morning barista at a local coffeehouse knew where she lived. At least, no one who would call her by her real name. The thin girl handed Sabrina a little green card, or, rather, a ticket. There was an address, a bar code and a time printed on it. Friday Night, 9 pm.
"What's this about?", Sabrina asked the girl, who answered that there was to be a very special party for a very special person that Friday night. A person she'd been searching for, who was guaranteed to be there. Sabrina was gobsmacked. She looked back down at the ticket to memorize the address, which, from her recollections of the city layout, was down by the docks.
"How do you"-- was all Sabrina was able to get out, as, when she looked back to her visitor for answers, she had vanished as though she was never there. Strange. This whole thing could be some sort of trap! Of course, the real issue was: who was that girl, how did she know where to find her, and, if she was hinting at the return of Valor Girl, how did she know that Sabrina was even connected to Valor Girl?! Had her secret identity been compromised? Trap or not, this was the only lead to finding her friend. She would go to the address on Friday night, but, she'd definitely be on her guard.

Kent "Kenny" Milton was at the very end of a very long Mid-March school day. The end of the school year was over a month away, but, he could almost taste it, already. Algebra was twisting his mind into a pretzel. The Vallance High School cafeteria served their poor excuse for sloppy joes that always irritated his stomach. Gym class was brutal. Dodgeball. AGAIN. The coach was a sadist. It took all his control to dip and dodge at just the right speeds so as not to tip off anyone that he had superpowers. As far as anyone could tell, thus far, the lanky boy was a skilled amateur gymnast who was just a little bit faster than he looked. Still, he allowed himself to get tagged... BADLY, in the last round, so as to throw off suspicion. The only one in school who knew his secret was his best friend, Lily Loomis. Of course, that was not without its problems, as Lily seemed to be developing an unhealthy attraction to him, as well as an annoying obsession with trying to get him to don a tight spandex costume and play superhero - a notion that disgusted Kenny Milton to his core. Still, Lily was the best friend he'd ever had, and nothing would change that, no matter how her weird spandex fetish disturbed him.

The two of them were walking the long outer hall of Vallance High School toward the student parking lot. Neither of them had a car - few students did, in fact, but, adjacent to the lot was a shady wall by a row of dumpsters and recycle bins. Near that was the row of low-slung, rather anemic oak trees whose somewhat sparse foliage provided just enough cover that the fenced-in cul-de-sac provided the perfect launching and landing point for a certain flying student to come and go without too much of a chance of being seen. The duo's walk was interrupted when someone called out Kenny Milton's name. The tall lad looked back over his shoulder to see who would be addressing him. He wasn't unpopular, but, he didn't really have a 'clique', either. It was most often just he and Lily who socialized during school hours. One of the super-powered friends that he hung out with, a few evenings a month, atop Midtown Manhattan's Herald Building - Socrates "Socks" Walker -  also went to his school, but, they didn't pal around much, there. Kenny, aka "Lord NightOwl", knew Socks, as, the speedster teen didn't really have a 'secret identity', he simply didn't use his powers publicly. Socks, however, had no idea that he was in such close proximity to his rooftop chum during the workaday week. Lord NightOwl never took off his mask, goggles and hoodie when on The Herald Building.

"Ricky Roseman?", Kenny said, acknowledging the handsome and impressively built 16 year old high school senior, "Uh, hey-- What can I do for ya, dude?"
"It's what I can do for YOU", Roseman answered, brandishing two green tickets in his right hand, "What're you doing on Friday Night?"
Shocked and shaken, Kenny waved his hands rapidly in front of his chest in a gesture of refusal.
"Uh, look, Roseman, I'm, like, flattered and all, but, um, I don't SWING tha--"
"No, smart-ass", Ricky shot back, cutting Kenny off, mid-stammer, "I'm inviting you - AND Loomis, here - to a PARTY on Friday! Here", said Ricky, passing the pale green card stock rectangles to the two of them, "Think of it as a RAVE, but, with a cooler dress code."

It was just in that moment that Lily Loomis - picturing in her mind's eye, her friend, Kenny, in a spandex leotard and Ricky Roseman, decked out in his "Thunderbird, the Teen Supreme" outfit, making out - developed the secret yaoi-fangirl-style fetish for hot boys playing tonsil-hockey with one another, into a full-blown obsession. It was a special day, indeed, but, she wouldn't divulge that particular thought to Kenny. She would, however be visiting the local comic shop's manga shelves before the day was out, on the hunt for yaoi.
Lily and Kenny took the tickets and thanked Ricky for his gesture. He was one of the cool kids, a Vallance High celeb... neither of them know why he deigned to descend from on high and invite them to a jam, but, they weren't complaining.
"Yeah, man-- THANKS! So, what SHOULD I wear?", Ken asked.
Ricky Roseman breezed past him, looking back over his shoulder with a sly smirk.
"It's informal", he said to Kenny, "Lily can wear a party dress. YOU can wear your LORD NIGHTOWL suit".
Kenny and Lily's jaws both hit the floor simultaneously. "HOW"?-- Kenny started to inquire.
"Dude. From what I understand, you've figured out who I am", Ricky Roseman mused, and added in a hushed tone, "The Boss'll have my BALLS for that, bee-tee-dubz".
Before either of his future party guests could cogitate on who "The Boss" was, Ricky continued:
"Speaking of 'The Boss', he trained me pretty well in the art of detection. I've known about your 'extracurricular activities' for almost a year, now. And about Socks Walker, Zed Hudson, that shapeshifter and the cute teleporter girl at The Herald Building."
Kenny was speechless, as was Lily, for whom this was the first she'd heard about hang-outs at the Herald Building. She knew Socks Walker. She had no idea that he had some sort of superpower, but, apparently, Kenny DID! What OTHER secrets was her best friend keeping from her?!
"Don't worry, though, they're all invited to the party, too. Though, I don't have a line on the shapeshifter, so, be a bro and pass that third ticket along if you see him... or her(?) before Friday, huh?" With that, Ricky Roseman strode out into the parking lot, got into his rather bad-ass midnight blue Dodge Charger, and roared off. Lily Loomis was both bothered by the fact that there were parts of his life that her best bud since third grade had neglected to share with her, and utterly elated that she was invited to attend some sort of superpowered party. Kenny went to his usual spot and launched himself skyward, headed for home, while she daydreamed about hot guys in tight spandex and capes while riding the subway home.

Lord NightOwl did, indeed pass the ticket to Friday's party to Drew Dane, later that evening at their usual meeting spot. Zed Hudson claims that he'd been approached by a smug, surly twelve year old in a bodega who gave him a ticket, and one to hand off to Jenny Everywhere. Socks Walker's uncle, Cole Stephens, who was secretly the member of the Order Patrol known as 'HardLight', had bequeathed him a similar ticket, but, wouldn't tell the young speedster what the party was for. It seemed odd to the speedy teen that his uncle, whom he idolized and nonetheless thought was a cool guy, would have a hot (literal) ticket to a mysterious rave down by the docks, and would be handing it to his high school aged nephew. The young metahumans all discussed this while partaking of bizarre, crispy wafer-like edibles provided by Jenny Everywhere, who claimed that they were mass manufactured in an alternate dimension by beings who resembled anthropomorphic pangolins.
It would seem that these tickets had saturated a good portion of New York City's metahuman and superheroic circles in the last few days. Along with Starlet and the Herald's Rooftop Round Table, local superheroes like Rush and Ionic Angel had also received the green tickets.
Random, anonymous delivery persons had also dropped off party invitations to the girls of Section P:
Neefa; the green-tressed precog, Cassandra; Lacrecia and Liath; Jeanette, along with Captain Perfect.
Even the teenaged guardians of Xailenrath City, Connecticut were given invites, and a scheduled ride on a private plane to get them to NYC on Friday so that they could attend. Whoever was setting this up, somehow had sussed out the secret identities of Ben Campbell, Jenny Tanner, Vernon Long, Jaye Marcus and Lavinia Roman, aka, Orbit, UberWoman, Rev, Recoil and Plus, respectively - The ThrillSeekers, only one of whom, namely Orbit, had even MET Valor Girl previously.

The long week dragged on, and soon, Friday Night arrived.
They came from all corners of the Tri-State Area. The address was, indeed, down near the dockyards of New York Harbor, but, far enough away that the background noise of boats and foghorns was a non-issue. The address was a warehouse that the outer gate proclaimed was owned by the Vayne Enterprises Corporation. Outside the sliding gate stood two men and a woman, each of rather impressive stature and musculature. The two male slabs of beef stood to either side of the gate, while the amazon in bright red dress with her hair in a tight, no-nonsense bun took the tickets from those who arrived at the gate. Some of the party guests had come, decked out in costume, choosing to wear their "work clothes" in order to preserve their secret identities. Others - friends, guests and some supers who were not necessarily concerned about such things wore snazzy suits and tight, sexy party dresses in accordance with the 'party' mood. Still, some were concerned that this whole thing may be some sort of trap, or doomsday plot to take out as many of the city's heroes as they could in one fell swoop. Folks like Max Atom were still wary of the entire situation, but, passed his invite to the imposing gate guards and entered anyway, but stayed frosty, just in case. Noting the other partygoers, Max also bristled at the fact that he was among the oldest to attend... by a good margin. He felt a bit more at ease when he spied Centennia on the other side of the room, having a quiet conversation with the superhero called HardLight.

One by one and two by two, the city's most powerful and prestigious filed into the warehouse on that cool mid-March evening. Music blared, but, could barely even be heard 30 feet beyond the suspiciously thick, titanium lined doors, as the entire building had been expertly soundproofed. This struck a suspicious chord in the back of the minds of many of the heroes in attendance.  Just outside the gate, the last stragglers among the guests had arrived. A sleek, black stretch limousine slithered around the corner from the outer road, and slid across the drive before the front gate. There seemed to be a thick fog bank rolling in, keeping in time with the vehicle. In its slow, deliberate crawl, tinted window after tinted window passed the steely gaze of the trio of gate guards. Almost a full minute went by, and the long car was still stretching by. The guards, puzzled, looked to the left at where the car was coming from, but could only see fog and polished ebony. They looked to the right, but, the nose of the eerie motor vehicle had already disappeared into its homemade cloud of cool, dark grey, haze. After 77 seconds or so had gone by with no end to this crazy carriage in sight, Murphy Brock, the 6' 8" man-mountain on the left side of the gate, began to lumber forward, thinking, perhaps foolishly, that he would, somehow, stop the car with his bare hands and brawny frame if he had to.

Just as he was going to take hold of the next handle to one of the many MANY car doors that lazily made its way across his field of vision, one of the onyx-hued tinted windows was actually down. A soft brown hand held up what looked like a cue card from behind the camera of a scene from Saturday Night Live. On it, in dark green letters, were printed the words: "SCREWY, AIN'T IT?!"
All three of the gate guards were utterly puzzled as the longest limousine in the world kept on rolling past them. They looked at each other, then back at the car as, six windows later, the end of the monster-mobile finally rolled into view. The last black window of the impossible conveyance slowly rolled down. Murphy leaned forward, peering into the inky interior, trying to find out who the hell was IN this thing.
Monroe Coyote leaned out of the car, booped Murphy on his rather large pug nose and loudly yelled into the meaty guard's slack jaw, as though he were talking into the clown-faced mascot of a drive through fast food restaurant.
"Yeah, I'll have a double bacon cheeseburger with maple fries and a vanilla shake! Two orders of chicken poppers, an apple pie... you guys want--? Make that THREE apple pies and a diet soda!"
Murphy Brock jumped back as if electrocuted. The limousine door swung open, and out stepped Monroe Coyote, Quinn Anansi and Bjorn Loki - The chaotic demigods know as The Misfits of Mischief - each sporting a rather glittery black tuxedo with bowties and cumberbunds in their signature colors of green, purple and blue respectively.
"We're here!", they screeched with an almost unhinged glee, passed their invitations to the gobsmacked gate guards and strutted up the walkway to the party atop a magically manifested red carpet that unfurled itself not two feet in front of them, ever edging toward the heavy doors of the warehouse. The trio walked along, waving and blowing kisses to a loudly cheering throng of invisible adoring fans who were not actually there. Flashbulbs from nonexistant paparazzi cameras cleaved the darkness on either side of them in short, sharp bursts, as The Bee Gees' "Stayin' Alive" boomed loudly from some mysterious origin other than the giant speakers within the warehouse until the last of them entered and the doors shut behind them with an audible 'THUNK'.
"What tha FUCK was that?!", cried Sheila Dermott, the amazon gate guard to her equally bewildered compatriots. They shot each other a quizzical look then turned back to the impossibly long limo, which had disappeared in a puff of its own haze, as though it was never there in the first place. Not even tire tracks remained. Reno Boyle, the third guard at the gate reached into his jacket pocket, and grabbed a quick nip from the flask of rum he kept there. Dealing with these metahuman jobs would be the death of him. He was sure of it.

The party was going well. The tense supers looking for an ambush had finally relaxed a bit. Old friends met new friends as they all co-mingled. Lily Loomis positively drooled over the spandex-clad physiques of mighty, meaty men like HardLight, Captain Evening and Orbit. Monroe Coyote and Captain Perfect bristled at one another, but remained civil, each remembering the last time they'd encountered one another. Centennia chuckled, remembering when she and her beloved, belated Kate Five had met the Misfits and they used their magic to re-tell the story of said tense encounter, live, inside a reality warped flashback.

Lord NightOwl had gravitated to his usual group, and introduced Lily to Zed Hudson and Drew Dane. Jenny Everywhere gleefully reunited with Quinn and Bjorn, playfully punching the one in the arm and giving noogies to the other. The three of them ambled toward the drink station, past the green-haired precognitive, Cassandra, whose irises briefly went white. She turned to the small crowd she was socializing with, consisting of Rush, Taki, The Phantom Pistoleer, Rhys and Ultimate Power. Also with the group was Neefa, the cat-woman, who had attended the party in the all-together, though, anyone here who didn't know her personally, never gave it a second thought, as they probably thought she was wearing a sheer leapord-print bodysuit or something to that effect.
"I know who this party is FOR," Cassandra said, smirking at her compatriots. This is actually gonna be a fun night!"

The young speedsters, Socks Walker and Rev, of the ThrillSeekers, raced each other around the outskirts of the room at unimaginable speeds, gauging each others' power-levels and had hour-long conversations about speed and superhero philosophies in less time than it took most of the party guests to finish doing shots. To the outside observers, the two boys seemed to stand in one spot, vibrating and chittering like electrocuted chipmunks, only to disappear and reappear elsewhere, repeating the eerie squeals that no one else in the room could decipher, save Rush. The lightning-fast lady would occasionally pop off from her own group to join the hyperspeed debates, and to make sure the younger speedsters were behaving themselves appropriately, only to race back to her own group between words - her friends often barely registering that she'd been missing.
Within the next few minutes, the hostess of this gala affair of the powerful from near and far took to the impromptu stage. The DJ turned the music off and a spotlight shown down from above, illuminating the visage of the leggy, pale-skinned blonde with the pink highlights in her wavy hair.
Claire Jones thanked everyone for coming to the party, raising a glass to her mother, Centennia. The mighty heroine smiled at her future-born daughter and tipped her own glass in return. Claire thanked everyone for coming, smirkingly performing a mild, off-the-cuff roast of some of the party guests to break any lingering tensions.
She teased Captain Perfect and Jeanette, her two closest friends and playmates, saying that since this warehouse didn't have a firehose, that if anyone had water powers, they should stick close to the two lovers, as they may need to be hosed down if left alone for 5 minutes!
She directed everyone's attention to Rush and Socks Walker, then at opposite ends of the room. The engineers in the rigging above the stage directed the two auxilliary spotlights at the two speedsters as she spoke.
"I've been wanting to get these two together to see what it's like when two speedsters have se--oops, we just missed it!"
The crowd laughed. Socks looked a bit mortified, but, Rush took it in stride. Still, for the rest of the evening, Socks did his level best to stealthily make his way across the room into the orbit of the sexy speedstress and rather pronounced junk in her not-inconsiderable trunk.
"I see Max Atom in the crowd!", The sassy hostess continued, "Good evening sir! From what I hear through the superhero-slash-reality show grapevine, Max can still 'swing it' like a man one-third his age... so, in effect, he makes love like a 60-year old!"
This brought a slighter smattering of laughter, and a few "ooooh"s from those assembled. Max took the teasing with grace, opting to finish his drink with the cocked eyebrow of a man who'd just been put on the spot.
"Oh, come now-- I expected a bigger laugh. If you're gonna be that kind of audience, I'm gonna drag the Misfits of Mischief up here and let THEM host -- and NONE of us wants that! The audience roared with laughter at that remark, prompting Monroe Coyote to snap his fingers, manifesting a red rubber clown nose onto Claire's lovely face and transmogrifying her stylish high heeled pumps into gigantic clown shoes. The assembled superheroes and guests positively howled.
"We love you, too, sweetheart!", Quinn Anansi yelled over the rim of a comically outsized fruity drink housed in what looked like a punchbowl with a stem.
The evening was going swimmingly as Claire told all and sundry that the guest of honor was about to arrive at any moment and then she and all of them would find out what this whole thing was about.
"Someone get the lights!", she shouted into the crowd, and with a snap of his finger and a spark of light blue energy, Bjorn Loki instantly plunged the entire warehouse into a shroud of darkness that was altogether too dark. Though the all-but full moon could be seen through the skylight, its smirking Troll Face 3/4 visible to the naked eye, the room itself was so pitch dark that even those, like Lord NightOwl, with superhuman night vision capabilities could barely see past a foot from the end of their own noses. In the obsidian gloom, The Misfits shuffled through the crowd, copping feels from Jeanette, Ultimate Power and Jenny Everywhere, and deftly lifting Captain Perfect's wallet, just to annoy him. He'd be absolutely livid, hours later, when he'd try to buy breakfast at a local diner for himself, Jeanette and Claire.
A back entrance to the warehouse yawned wide as the petite figure stepped inside.
"Hello?" she called out into the darkness, "Who's in here?! If this is some sort of dumb ambush, I'm warning you - I am NOT in the best of moods right now!"
"Maybe we can change all that!", a voice called back.
With that, and the snap of a sparking finger, the lights came up and all in attendance yelled out "SURPRISE!!"

Valor Girl, for a split second struck a defensive pose, ready to strike, but, soon realized what was happening here. It was a surprise party for her twenty-first birthday! Her dear friend, Claire, had thrown a bash in her honor! She had been so preoccupied with her mission to find out about her past, and so damned angry at her Uncle Chuck that she'd completely forgotten what day it was! Claire rushed over to her, restored high heels clicking loudly enough on the concrete floor of the warehouse to be heard over the cheering and well-wishing, and threw her sinewy arms around her friend. With a big kiss on the cheek, she wished Valor Girl a happy birthday!
"OMG, Claire! Did YOU do this?! Knight Raptor sent me here to stop a terrorist plot!"
"Ol' Buzzard-Beak set it up, but the planning and details were all ME!", Claire answered, still beaming over the thought that she'd actually pulled off a surprise, "How else were we gonna get you here and make it a surprise, Char'?!  Those super-senses of yours make it real difficult for a girl to pull together a surprise birthday party! As much as I missed you these last few days, your, um, 'issues' actually provided a decent distraction."

Charlotte Trent realized that she had, at least, accidentally been avoiding all her friends during the current ordeal of existential crisis she'd been going through. She glanced around the room and took in the roster of party-goers: Her friends from Generation P; The kids from the Herald Building; Jenny Everywhere and Zed... Max Atom, with whom, while actually trying to take her mind off her troubles, she'd most recently spent a romantic evening that started with trouble at an award ceremony and ended snuggled up in Max's bed...
Her good friend and ersatz protege', Starlet, who literally flew over to her and gave her a huge hug!
"Hey, Sabrina!", Valor Girl cheered, "Look, I'm so sorry that I've flaked on you this last week, I--", before she could finish, Sabrina hugged her good and tight, saying that all was forgiven. She was just glad that Valor Girl was safe and sound and hadn't left town, or anything! Charlotte felt a twinge of guilt. She WAS going to leave town. She had recently been awarded with her mother's old diaries in the form of an android monkey called Pipsqueak. She hadn't even broken the surface of the knowledge that he carried, but, she'd wiled away many an hour over the last few days, reading and listening to her mom's journalling. She'd only stopped to take a break when Max Atom reached out and invited her to the award ceremony. She said yes just for the sake of getting out and socializing with other people before embarking on what she was sure to be a life-changing quest.
In a sudden fit of self-awareness, Charlotte realized that she would hurt and worry a lot of people - people who truly cared for her in BOTH her identities - if she suddenly disappeared from their lives.
The party was a hit! New friends were made and new connections were forged. Valor Girl did her very best to get face-time with each and every one of the people at the soiree', whether she knew them or not. She met with heroes, anti-heroes and demigods. Veteran heroes and newbies who hoped to be great someday, as well as some who were 'Sick of Superheroes'. She found that the people in her life were more connected than she knew.

Jenny Everywhere had spent a bit of time on Earth-K, from which Max Atom hailed. Monroe Coyote, one of the reality warping demigods in the room, was the father of an alternate reality future daughter with Jeanette! HardLight's brother-in-law, Earl, who was Socks Walker's father, was a security guard at the Tiburon Enterprises Building. Tiburon Enterprises was the technologies and science corporation that helped build the Hall of Order back during the days of the original Order Patrol, before eventually being bought out by Vayne Enterprises, the company owned by Bryce Vayne, secretly Knight Raptor. Charlotte noticed that, aside from HardLight and Mr. Mars (whom, she would find was in the shape of a rather handsome Latino gentleman, not dissimilar to Antonio Banderas, circa his 'El Mariachi' days), no other members of the Order Patrol were present at her party. This was fine, in essence, as she wasn't particularly fond of any of them outside of HardLight and Mars, anyhow. Still, she thought that at least her Uncle Chuck would have shown jup for her birthday. Claire explained that, not knowing exactly where she stood with her vaunted uncle, it was decided that he wouldn't be invited until checking with Charlotte herself, AT the party, whether or not she even wanted him around.
Claire was a good friend, indeed. Charlotte decided that maybe it would turn out to be improper and a bit hurtful not to invite the only parent she's ever really known to the birthday party that really cemented her adulthood.

"Oh, that's RIGHT", Claire declared with a beaming smile, "NOW you can DRINK!" The two shared a knowing look for a beat, then, both added "LEGALLY" with a simultaneous giggle.
"I'll go find Uncle Chuck a little later", Charlotte said, as Claire and Starlet escorted her to the bar.
"I gotta wonder, though, if all these heroes and heavy hitters are HERE, whoopin' it up, who's watching the CITY?!
"That's simple", Sabrina "Starlet" Drummond replied, "We did find a USE for the rest of the Order Patrol... among OTHERS."

New York City was well covered that night. Knight Raptor had seen to it. He called in all of his lieutenants from NYC to Geisthaven: The Swan, ThunderBird, Raptor Woman, Black Talon, Blackbird, Condora, Beacon and Eaglet - all trained by Knight Raptor to become the baddest vigilantes on two legs, had each landed at Laguardia Airport the previous day and prepared to wage a one-night-only canvassing of The Big Apple to make sure that one young girl didn't have to worry after the safety of her city on her special night. The Feathered Fighter had mobilized the other members of the Order Patrol and their own far-flung legacies, subordinates, sidekicks and agents to converge on the outlying areas of the 5 Boroughs to keep them as crime and danger free as was possible. He'd even gone so far as to funnel a metric shit-ton of cash to the "villainous" organization of SCARR to utilize their own resources against other villains, as well as to spread the misinformation that there was a clandestine movement of a newly formed black ops super-vigilante army out to vanquish as many villains as they could, leaving no evidence, so as to scare the more cowardly lawbreakers off the streets that night. Even other heroes from surrounding areas were invited to NYC to keep the night safe.

A fantastic time was had by all. New friendships forged, as well as many a session of canoodling initiated in the shadowy corners of the frantic warehouse party. For a good seven hours, Charlotte Trent's mind was taken far, far away from her troubles. She didn't once think about her mother's diaries, her Uncle Chuck, or the quest she was planning to embark upon, alone, at the end of the coming week. The newly twenty-one year old heroine drank, danced, smiled, laughed and loved, finally realizing just how many people she had in her life that truly cared for her and her well-being.
This had been the best night of her life.
The first among the assembled began to trickle out of the party sometime around 3:45 am. Centennia flew off for home, having begun thinking of Kate Five and how much more fun this party would have been with her love present. She carried Cassandra along with her, as, she was having similar feelings regarding Lacrecia.

The handsome Not-Antonio Banderas and an equally lovely Chinese woman in a lavender party dress bearing a striking resemblance to Lucy Liu, and wearing an ivory necklace in the shape of two eels entwined to form a heart, who were, in fact, Mr. Mars and Drew Dane, respectively strode up to Charlotte, Claire and Sabrina Drummond. They thanked them for a lovely time. Mr. Mars gushed, as, this was the first party he'd been invited to since migrating to this planet.
Claire leaned in and nudged Drew with her elbow, asking if s/he and Mars were dating. Drew stated that this was A date. They had not arrived together, but, as non-human shapeshifters, they had some things in common. Drew was simply keeping a fellow lonely outsider company. Apparently, Charlotte Trent wasn't the only member of The Order Patrol with deep-seated issues of alienation that originated in the orbit of Commander Valor. Claire hugged her friend and most recent playmate and wished them good luck and a good night. Leaning in close, she whispered in Drew's ear that the next time they met, she wanted all the juicy details of any metamorphic love-making techniques that Drew may learn from the alien superhero. They laughed and as they parted company, Claire gave Drew a quick pat on her shapely bum as she rejoined her date for the rest of the waning evening.

The ThrillSeekers all filed back to the airport to take the waiting private jet home, each hoping that they could somehow sneak back into their respective homes without any encounters with worried/angry parents. Rev opted to run, of course, with new friends, Socks and Rush running along for company, all still discussing speedster matters, and happy to have made new friends their own age (in Socks's and Rev's  case, at any rate) who could keep up.
Zed Hudson ambled up to the birthday girl and scooped her up into his brawny arms for a hug and a quick peck on the lips. Both remembering their night together, lo, those months ago with a warm mutual affection.
"Y'have a good night, shorty?", Zed asked.
"The best ever", Valor Girl answered with a light in her eyes that Zed had not seen since the night they met.
"That's what I like to hear!", The Brooklyn Brawler answered with a beaming smile that was, similarly, unlike him, "Happy Birthday, girl. Gimme a call sometime. I'll give you your 'birthday present'."
With that, Zed floated to the open warehouse door, then, shot skyward, headed back to his apartment. Claire Jones and Sabrina Drummond shot their friend a look of pure astonishment.
"Um, d-did you and that guy?--", Sabrina stammered, wondering how such a relatively petite superheroine like Charlotte and the hulking hunk of chocolate thunder that was Zed would even begin to do the deed.
"Ain't telling!", Charlotte chuckled, her dancing eyes and lascivious smile telling her two friends all they needed to know, regardless of her previous statement.

One by one and two by two they all filed out of the warehouse into that cool mid-March dawn. The last of the general guests to leave were the Misfits of Mischief and Jenny Everywhere, who had formed a druken conga line with some of the other guests in the waning minutes of the celebration, complete with wearing actual lampshades on their heads (which they had conjured from thin air). The other guests eventually broke off, thanked the hostess and the birthday girl for the wonderful time, and left the transdimensional troublemakers still shuffling, one after another, to the conga beat. The foursome had to literally be ejected from the dying party by the trio of musclebound giants who had spent the evening guarding the warehouse entrance. Quinn drunkenly tipped each of them with actual bars of gold, and he, his husbands and The Shifter, phased out of that reality, headed to parts unknown. Again, the super-strong trio of guards each took a swig from Reno Boyle's flask of rum and lamented their bizarre life choices.

The Vayne Enterprises cleaning crew showed up at the warehouse just as the sun was peeking through the concrete canyons of the city. Claire, Charlotte and Sabrina exited the edifice, arm in arm, each a bit more tipsy than they'd intended to be, but sobering quickly.
"Ya wanna keep the party going, Char?", Sabrina asked, "We could go crash at my place and watch some movies. Popcorn for breakfast?"
"No, Bree. I'll get with you guys later. I'm... I'm gonna go find my Uncle Chuck before I pass out. I MAY have beedn a little harsh toward him for the last... like, YEAR. I wanna bury the hatchet with him. Or, at least, TRY to, as my first act as a proper adult."
Claire reminded her friend that, technically, her first act as a proper adult was to get blitzed and twerk with Captain Evening in a warehouse full of onlookers. The girls laughed and said their goodbyes with hugs. Valor Girl rose off the dockyard concrete and flew back toward the Hall of Order. Claire, ever in search of a good time and new friends in this time period, so far before the year of her actual birth, accompanied Starlet back to her apartment for a marathon of cheesy Fast and The Furious sequels, in the effort to bond with her friend's friend.

Charlotte Trent landed on the roof of the vaunted Hall of Order and used the fingerprint/retinal scanner to gain entrance. The place was trashed. While there was no structural damage to the outside, the inside floors all seem to be under reconstruction after what looked to have been an interior hurricane. She called out. No one seemed to be home. She hadn't been to the Hall in almost a week. She'd only crashed here once in the last eleven days, or so. She caught a few winks at her dorm room. She'd stayed over at MAx Atom's place after the awards ceremony, and taken a spare room at the Fortress of Evening once. In order to avoid her problems and responsibilities while working with Pipsqueak, she'd crashed in a cheap motel in Long Island. Now, back for the first time, she was worried that whatever happened here could possibly have been avoided if maybe she'd been around.

She hurried to Uncle Chuck's quarters and pried the doors open with her bare hands. There he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking forlorn, dejected and defeated. He raised his head and cast his red, glowing eyes to the niece that he'd missed for so many days. He was unsure of how to act. Was she still angry? Would she accept an embrace from a worried elder who, he finally admitted to himself, had treated her so porrly with his smothering brand of 'tough love'?
"Chuck? Wh-what HAPPENED here?"
"Knight Raptor happened", Chuck answered, "He happened hard enough to... to knock some sense into me."

Charlotte took a good look at her uncle and noted the black eye he sported on the left side of his face, and the missing front tooth. Charlotte had only seen her uncle take lasting physical damage from only two assailants in her entire life. Whatever Knight Raptor had done to him must have been cataclysmic! Suddenly angry, Charlotte's own eyes began to glow, just as her uncle's always did. Her anger was palpable. Despite their vast differences, Chuck Trent was her own flesh and blood. As infuriating as he ALWAYS was, he was HEr family! Her ONLY family, and she wouldn't brook anyone harming him on her watch!

"Where is Knight Raptor?!", she shrieked. Uncle Chuck bid her to calm herself. All that was water under the bridge. It was over. He was actually fine, despite how battered he appeared. Besides, Knight Raptor got as good as he gave. He was currently laid up in his private medical cubicle in the sub-sub-basement of the Hall, in traction, most likely monitoring this entire conversation from the info hub he had connected to his hospital bed. Apparently, earlier in the week, Commander Valor had found out that it was Knight Raptor who told Charlotte where to find Pipsqueak - whom Knight Raptor himself had gotten a hold of and had been in possession of for all these years - and had also known Charlotte's whereabouts, sending Chuck on a wild goose chase while she was off searching for answers. He told her of his encounter with her friends, Claire, Starlet and Drew, at the bar called "Pineapple". That ended with him bulleting his way back to the Hall of Order in a blind rage. Knight Raptor was waiting for him - wearing a very sturdy juggernaut of a battle armor, powered by some bio-reactive radiation that seemed to sap his powers. The Marshall of Midnight had given The Red-eyed Ranger a serious thrashing and a simultaneous talking-to, claiming that getting his head kicked in was the only way that Commander Valor would take ANYONE else seriously enough to listen to what they had to say. Chuck didn't go into long-winded specifics over what was said, only that Knight Raptor had pointed out how he'd been very overprotective of his niece because he'd lost his twin sister, and that Charlotte deserved better. That Chuck's efforts to keep Charlotte safe were smothering her, and that, in time, the resentment she felt at being treated thusly would read irreversible levels. Chuck was insanely powerful, but, contrary to popular belief, he was no god. He couldn't stop time from going forward, and Charlotte was an adult, whether he liked it or not. She would eventually leave the nest - possibly sooner than later - and his behavior would dictate whether his only family would return to him. The only thing that Chuck resented more than being psychoanalyzed while simultaneously having his ass handed to him was the fact that that smug bastard, Knight Raptor, was absolutely right. Of course, once Chuck got his head out of his posterior, he began to fight back. In the end, Chuck had an arm broken and a serious shiner above that mustache of his, but, Knight Raptor had his mech suit destroyed, both his legs broken, as well as a concussion, two fractured vertebrae, and a punctured lung. The Hall of Order was all but destroyed in the melee, but, it still stood. The end result was the best birthday present Charlotte Trent would receive that day - Her Uncle Chuck's finally understanding that she wasn't a little girl anymore.

Chuck Trent wished his niece a happy birthday with a warm hug and passed her a present - a box containing a checkbook. Uncle Chuck had set her up a trust fund when she was but a child, to be accessed on her twenty-first birthday. It contained three million dollars - all monies that Chuck obtained by selling off some of the less dangerous trinkets and trophies from his decades of adventure to both private collectors and museums worldwide. Also within the box was a strange device that looked like something Professor Hubert Farnsworth would use as a back scratcher. It was, in fact, a transplanetary communication device. Plug it into just about any normal human comm device, and, in just a few minutes, it would be able to open a channel across the galaxy to M'Narxas IV, home planet of her deceased biological father, Jackal Nosib. It would connect her to the other side of her heritage. Jackal Nosib's family had been told of her existence by Chuck Trent, and they wanted to meet her. Also included was everything that Knight Raptor had dug up concerning the fate of her believed-deceased twin, Charmaine. Between all this and the information that resided within the android monkey, Pipsqueak, she had a better-than-average chance of finding her sister.

"I know that you're going to go searching for your past", Chuck said, choking back salty tears that began to evaporate in the constant onslaught of the red ionic energies that permanently cascaded from his eyes, "I won't stand in your way, but, I won't be going with you, either. This is your mission. I owe you that much - to stay out of your way from here on. You're a woman now. Just promise me TWO things. Promise me that you won't do it all alone. You've made some good friends. Powerful friends who care about you. Take at least one with you. Someone to watch your back. I've a feeling that this quest of yours won't be as quick or as easy as it promises, and I don't want you to be alone out in the world."
The heart-felt sentiment from her usually closed off and reserved uncle genuinely moved Valor Girl. Maybe she wasn't the only 'Valor' in the room who'd done some growing up in the last month or so.

"Sure, Uncle Chuck. I promise", she said, hugging him. "What's the other thing"
"Change your outfit", he said. Charlotte wasn't sure what he meant. Her uniform was a lot like his own... sorta. She had worn it for so long, that she'd actually forgotten that she created this tight, short, somewhat sexualized version of his own suit just to tick him off so long ago. She was almost disappointed, initially thinking that he was expressing displeasure with her suit in that context, but, he continued, telling her that she had outgrown being "Commander Valor's Niece". She shouldn't have to wear a version of his suit, anymore. She was her own woman - her own PERSON, now. She should design a costume of her own to reflect her individuality as a hero and as a woman. Charlotte had never loved her uncle more. This was his way of apologizing for everything he'd put her through, and she took it as such. She decided that she WOULD create herself a new suit - but, she'd keep the 'Valor Girl' name to honor her Uncle... and her mother.

Flying back to her dorm room, just after 1 pm, having spent a long, happy day, talking with Uncle Chuck, deeply and honestly, for the first time in a long time, Charlotte Trent felt lighter than the flight her superpowers afforded her. She had so many plans to make. She had to pack, and formally drop out of college, at least for the time being.  Ideas for designs of a new outfit swam through her mind. She decided that she would, indeed, take Chuck's advice and bring along a super-powered partner to watch her back on whatever adventure she would embark upon. Claire Jones was up to her neck in her own issues, what with what became of her mother, Kate Five, and helping her other mom, Centennia, through this heart-wrenchingly difficult time. Perhaps she could talk Starlet into coming along. Sabrina would have to quit her barista job, but, three million dollars would definitely keep her and her protege' comfortable while she looked for answers.
Twenty One
This story is a transitional moment that has been a long time coming.
There will be links inserted and possibly a new main image sometime later.
After Party
   The cool New York night air had a bite to it... especially if you were naked. Couldn't be helped. When a lady of Claire Jones's sheer hotness and lack of shyness when pursuing something - or someone- she wants wants YOU, you say "YES", or regret it for the forseeable future.
    Drew Dane wasn't necessarily shy, either, but, was also not necessarily a 'ladies man' by any stretch of the imagination. Drew had confidence to spare, but, that was more of a survival skill than anything else. Drew was a metamorph. Not just any metamorph, mind you, but, the child of the god Proteus! Of beings on the Mortal Plane, Drew was one of the more powerful shapeshifters you're likely to find. Still, the only thing he's ever really wanted was to get in contact with his missing biological father and, other than that, live a normal life. That latter part, as one may surmise, was seemingly next to impossible, as Drew spent most of his time among metahumans and superheroes, and had a habit of bumping into other supernatural beings while going about every day life. Still, when it came to love, and loveMAKING, it helped to be able to look like anyone - BE anyone that a potential mate could imagine, right down to the last hair follicle.
    Drew was used to having lovers want him to transform into other people. It had been that way since senior year in high school. He lost his virginity to the first girl with whom he shared his secret. A cheerleader named Molly whom he'd befriended back in tenth grade, before she became one of the "popular girls". Drew lost his virginity to Molly, she lost hers to 'Brad Pitt'. Of course, she couldn't keep a secret, so, Drew's family - his mother, step-father and step-sister, Megan, had to move away when the denizens of their New Jersey town got rather xenophobic. Drew spent the second half of senior year in High School in New York City, as a girl, due to her parents calling in some favors in the form of a little creative 'clerical error' here and there. She eventually began dating a nice boy named David Hendricks. Drew lost her virginity a second time to someone she trusted and cared for, and though a kind and caring boy, one who wanted her to be a fantasy. David Hendricks lost his virginity to 'Beyonce' Knowles'.

    All that was water under the bridge, now. Drew had connected with Proteus, moved out of the family home and was a 22 year old, attending college. At this particular moment, Drew was atop the Herald Building in Midtown Manhattan, fairly tipsy, nude, not only in lack of clothing, but, also in their original form - that of a slender, lavendar skinned, almost elfin figure with white spots like 'freckles' adorning their body, and bleach white hair in a short-cropped bob. Drew, as a matter of form, didn't seem to have any gender to speak of. He most often presented as a male, due to the societal advantages it presented, but he was, in truth, neither male nor female. Claire was curious about Drew's true form. She'd met a couple of shapeshifters in her time, but, she found that they were, most often, pretending to be something that they were not. (Imagine that!) Drew seemed genuine. He had a vulnerability to him, and a joy concerning his powers that others didn't. He wasn't 'searching for himself' due to his powers being some sort of burden on his sense of self. His was possessed of a confidence of self-awareness, and Claire found that sexy. She had asked to see him 'truly naked', and he obliged.

    He was actually rather 'pretty' in his androgynous purplish form. He blushed a bit. He admitted that he wasn't used to people actually wanting to see him in his natural form. Claire sidled up to him, booped his sharp nose, then, ran her finger down the side of his neck and traced her way down his chest to his navel. She was surprised that he even had one. Never mind one that was ticklish by the way he giggled. Drew stated that he was still half-human,  after all, and was born 'The Old Fashioned Way', so... navel.

    Drew's crotch seemed utterly smooth, with no genitalia to speak of. Claire wanted to ask how he went to the bathroom, but didn't want to ruin the mood. The copious amount of booze she'd had was still swimming through her system, though, she was sobering fast, thanks to her unique metabolism. Drew figured that he knew what was on her mind. He'd been asked ALL the questions before. Claire's questing fingers were playing about Drew's nether-regions where human genitals would be. He may not have had the usual equipment there, at the moment, but, he was still very VERY warm between his legs. Claire smiled at him with half-lidded eyes. Drew couldn't tell whether that look was of lust or intoxication, and at that moment he really was too distracted to care, as Claire began kissing her way down his slender body, pausing to lick and nip at the parts of the shapeshifter's chest where normal humans would have nipples. She lingered there for a moment, and Drew, taking the hint, manifested a small pair of pert, somewhat bumpy nipples, which Claire immediately popped into her full lips. Her hot tongue circled the nip and Drew moaned. This revved Claire's engine even more. She loved the noises her lovers made under her tender mercies. It made her feel powerful, and she craved it like a drug. She wrapped her arms around Drew's wiry back and sank lower to the dusty rooftop, speading her legs to get as low as possible, making her skin-tight dress crawl up her hips like a peeled candy wrapper, exposing the tasty goodies beneath it. She buried her face in Drew's crotch. It was as warm and musky, like sharing a winter blanket with a lover by a fireplace. He smelled of clean skin and vanilla with a hint of pepper. Claire couldn't stop herself. She rubbed her nose into his sensitive skin and gave him sucking kisses in the mysterious area. Once again, Drew took the hint. He manifested a penis. It grew from him like sped up film of a sprouting seedling. Claire's eyes flew wide. This was a new sight, even for her. Beneath the elongating penis, Drew's gonads bloomed into  bulbous fruition.

    Claire, though not really wanting to take her eyes off the spectacle before her, still cast a swift glance upward into the slightly glowing cyan eyes resting in the soulful black sclera of the demigod. She kissed the head of his cock while never breaking eye contact.
"You ARE talented!", she chuckled, "although... can ask a favor without getting on your bad side?"
"Most likely", Drew shot back, smirking, thinking that he knew what was coming next, "considering your have my cock in your hands, I doubt you could get on my bad side right now if you tried!"

    The two lovers giggled, and Claire, widening her eyes blue to an almost comical degree and rasping in an over-exaggerated Dickensian English accent, said "Please sir, May I 'ave s'more?!"

    Drew contained his laughter, barely. Obviously, they both were still under the influence of the night's alcohol! With nary a thought, he lengthened his penis to a girthy eight inches, and Claire cooed with delight!
"Ooh! No offense, but, why didn't you start here?!", she implored.

    "I, um, didn't wanna make assumptions?!", Drew said, apologetically, "I've found out the hard way that not everybody likes 'em real big! Some folks actually get kinda freaked out. I... I just wanted you to be comfortable. W-with me", he stammered, embarrassedly turning away from her gaze.
    "I AM comfortable with you, darling", she assured him, then, with another kiss to the bulbous head of his now enlarged member, began to trace the underside of it with her tongue. "Very comfortable. You can relax with me. I won't bite... not unless you ask real nice! Come down here".
    Claire gently pulled Drew down onto the rooftop beside her, both now lying atop their discarded coats. The statuesque future-born girl shucked the slinky dress she was wearing like a snake shedding its skin, and lay it beneath her, padding the little nest she'd made. Sitting there wearing nothing but skimpy black panties, she took Drew's chin in hand, turning him to face her.
    "Hey? Would it actually make you more comfortable to change into someone else?", she asked. Drew contemplated. This had actually been the first time that anyone had asked to make love to him as he was. He had no issues with his identity, but, honestly, this was a level of vulnerability that he was unused to by several degrees. Even his best friend, Nicky Wing, who knew that Drew was a shapeshifter, didn't know what his true form even looked like, much less most of the lovers he'd had in the past couple of years. In the back of his mind, he realized that he'd been harboring very traditional notions of sharing himself with others, much the same way that a normal mortal would 'save themselves for marriage', he subconsciously realized that maybe he'd been trying to save his 'true form' for that One Special Person. Claire Jones was a wonderful girl. He'd liked her since they'd met some time ago, introduced to each other by Valor Girl, but, he wasn't in love with her. Maybe he WOULD be more comfortable in a different form, and he told her as much. She understood. She wrapped her loving arms around his snowy head and pulled him close, kissing his forehead. She told him that it was okay, and, that if he were willing, she had a rather specific naughty little idea of fun that they could indulge in. Drew preemptively agreed to whatever she wanted him to do, relieved that she still wanted him, and was content to play with him according to his comfort level, and, simultaneously distracted, as, while Claire still hugged his head, his face was gently ensconced between her soft, warm breasts.

    Socks Walker was the first to arrive. This was often the case, with him being a rather nimble speedster. He streaked through Midtown Manhattan, making a bee-line for the Herald Building. Someday, he'd have to read a newspaper, just to see what it felt like. His generation was more digital than ever, and newspapers seemed relics of a bygone era. He hadn't touched one since he was nine years old, reading Charlie Brown in full color via the Sunday edition. As was also often the case, he peered upward, and saw his friend, Lord NightOwl, a graffiti artist with the ability to fly, beginning his arc of descent toward the roof of the building. Socks poured on the speed, angled up the sheer face of the building's wall, outracing gravity itself, and slowed upon reaching the top three floors of the building, skidding to an almost stop at the lip of the roof. Mother Gravity reasserted herself at the last possible second, affording the mohawked speed demon the ability to lurch sideways onto the perpendicular plane of the rooftop. One more quick blast of speed got him to the center of the roof a mere two heartbeats before Lord NightOwl made his own landing. This was their unofficial tradition whenever they were in the area at the same moment. Socks almost always won the unofficial race.

    Before the teenaged duo could begin their usual round of good-natured smacktalk at who got there first, Lord NightOwl's keen vision spotted something unusual. Socks had begun to babble about how 'slow' his flying friend was, when NightOwl, not even looking in his direction took a few steps forward toward the far side of the rooftop.

    "What?", Socks asked, "What're you looking at?", with that, the speedster moved forward, after his friend in the white hoodie, straining his own eyes to make out what NightOwl was peering at in the gloom.

    Zed Hudson, on his own flight path, approached the Herald's rooftop from the opposite direction of his circle of friends' other resident flyer. He saw Owl and Socks touch down, and also noticed that there were shapes busily bustling on the opposite side of the roof. he'd thought that maybe Jenny Everywhere or Drew Dane had, for once, beaten the speedster and the tagger to the party. He was half right. As he touched his shell-toed sneaker to the dust-laden roof, the familiar buzz/pop of The Shifter, Jenny Everywhere, travelling via her rifts in space/time sounded off in his left ear. They greeted each other with a friendly and familiar peck on the lips. Jenny had brought with her a picnic basket laden with snacks, drinks and booze from various other realities, and, of course, plenty of her favorite - hot, crispy toasted bread. NightOwl walked forward like a zombie deer in headlights, and Socks followed suit at a pace slower than he's probably ever moved since the day his speed manifested. Zed was the next one to see it. His vision was almost as good as the night vision powers that NightOwl possessed, and Jenny, following Zed, was the last to clearly make out the spectacle.

    There they were. On top of a pile of discarded party clothes and fashionable coats - A toned, powdery-skinned blonde with pink highlights at the ends of the curly tendrils of her long hair, and the infamous Captain Valor in all his naked glory. He sat up, his veiny, muscular arms holding him steady as the sultry blonde squatted atop his pistoning crotch. Her right leg was thrown over his left shoulder like a crooner's jacket; his own right leg was over her midsection and her left leg snaked beneath his aforementioned right. They were like a sweaty, grunting sex pretzel, glistening in the moonlight as the aghast crowd of onlookers approached. No one knew what to say.

    "They certainly are LIMBER", NightOwl thought to himself, but, didn't dare voice it, as he wasn't sure that he wanted to interrupt whatever the HELL was going on here. From the angle at which they were standing, Socks couldn't see the penetration, but, with the way Valor and especially Claire were bellowing, he wondered exactly which of the girl's orifices was being invaded.

    Claire Jones' pace quickened as she ground her strong hips into Commander Valor's monolithic cock, as though her vagina was a juicy orange and the lascivious duo were trying to make fresh squeezed OJ. Covered in a sheen of slick sweat, Claire thrashed like a wild woman. The oozing black tendrils of her powerset wriggled from her back and undulated in the night air as The Commander clutched a fistful of her hair. Her ebon tendrils snaked around both her body and his, wrapping themselves around her bouncing ivory breasts and lean legs, then slithering to get a tight, warm grip on his quivering testicles and gripping his rock solid ass. With a deftness that defies description, Valor lifted himself from the coat-nest by way of only his left leg and right hand, and, clamping his writhing playmate with the other two appendages, flipped them both over, to deposit Claire onto her back in the damp nest of clothes and hammer home the final powerful thrusts that brought them both to orgasm.

    Claire's right leg was still stretched taut, her dainty ankle now an ornament on The Commander's shoulder, her foot like some sort of sexual telephone, her toes wiggling madly next to Valor's ear. Her other leg was  hooked over Valor's own left thigh at a somewhat awkward angle, bent at the knee, as she flexed and pulled her lover into her with the back of her shin, practically spanking him with it at every increasingly deep thrust.
    The rooftop vibrated with their power. The Herald building was an old edifice, Jenny Everywhere wondered if it would withstand the onslaught.
    Claire yowled as Commander Valor's final, punishing strike to her soaking wet womanhood brought the orgasm that would vibrate to her very core for minutes to come. The four onlookers each cocked their heads to the side and exclaimed "DAAAAAAMN!!"

    Claire Jones was suddenly acutely aware that her lovemaking had garnered an audience. Commander Valor's glowing red eyes flew wide and he wondered how long they'd been standing there, his slack jaw making his mouth an astonished and mortified 'O' between his bushy mustache and white goatee.

    "Not to spoil that 'Golden Moment'", Zed began, a sneer on his face signalling a deep disapproval, "but Y'all KNOW this ain't kosher, right?!"
    Neither of the naked supers had a clue what the beefy brawler in the sports jersey emblazoned with the Capital 'Z' was on about. They looked at one another, and simultaneously realized that, to the onlookers, it seemed as though the World's Most Uptight and Overprotective Uncle had just finished plumbing the womanly depths of one of his own beleaguered niece's best friends.

    "You ain't welcome here, and THIS has been a long time comin' man", Zed spat, swiftly advancing on the hapless visage of Commander Valor with a speed that only Socks Walker witnessed with any clarity. He grabbed the red-eyed Romeo by the throat, hoisting him high in the air, and cocked back to lay a haymaker that surely would have knocked The Commander's block off, muchless turn Drew Dane's face into porridge. Quick as a wink, Socks and Lord NightOwl grabbed hold of Zed's brawny arm, trying in vain to keep him from starting a super-battle atop the old news office. The duo of scrawny teens wouldn't even have slowed him down. Even quicker than the aforementioned wink, The Commander's hulking form shrank, stretched and skewed itself into that of a lavendar-hued cobra with white markings and wrapped itself around Zed's tree-trunk of a arm. The cobra met Zed's gaze and it cried out that it was not Commander Valor, but, instead Zed's good, and not-to-be-hurt friend, Drew!!
Zed paused. He looked back and forth between the talking snake and the naked woman. A fleeting biblical reference crossed his mind, but he dismissed it.
    "Did you KNOW he wasn't Commander Valor?", Zed, cocking his head in her general direction, yet not breaking eye contact with Cobra-Drew,  asked Claire, who had risen from the bed of coats, and manifested her black goo into hefty claws, ready to defend her imperiled friend from these unknown interlopers.
    "Of course I knew!", she spat, her sharp talons elongating more and more each second, "It was MY idea!"

    "Cool", Zed said, matter-of-factly, releasing Drew from his titanium grip, freeing the shapeshifter to return to the form in which he was most comfortable around his friends - his true lavendar hue with the white freckle-spots, presenting closer to the masculine side of the spectrum, complete with sweatpants and a blue hoodie with a picture of a cartoon shark across the front.
    Zed turned his back and ambled over to retrieve the picnic basket that Jenny Everywhere had dropped, as though the entire event and altercation had meant absolutely nothing. He was a go-with-the-flow type of guy, and, as long as the two lovers were consenting adults and no one had tricked anyone into believing that they were having sex with someone that they weren't (which he knew that Drew would never intentionally do, anyway), who was shtupping whom was none of his beeswax.

    Drew positioned himself in front of Claire to protect her modesty. Chivalrous as that was, Claire had no hang-ups about her body. The coats and her party dress were ruined due to dust and the fluids of love, but, her black panties were still dry and clean. She donned them, causing a stark contrast between the onyx-colored skivvies and her snowy flesh that almost glowed in the moonlight. Jenny Everywhere reached into her "messenger bag of holding" and produced one of her surplus "J" t-shirts for the blonde. Claire fashioned a short skirt from the alien goo that was her birthright, inherited from Kate Five, one of her mothers. Drew invited her to join what was now an impromptu after-party to the night they'd had. Claire was always up for a friendly gathering, and, now that the initial awkwardness of the situation had worn off, she was very interested in making new friends and partaking of the exotic, extradimensional goodies that Jenny Everywhere had brought in the picnic basket.

    Jenny told her tales of alternate universe versions of her famous mothers. Lord NightOwl and Socks teased Drew about getting caught doing the deed on a rooftop with a smoking hot super-woman who was "way out of his league". Zed and Claire talked seriously about Valor Girl's current state of mind, and expressed worry for her. Claire asked Drew why, every time he saw him in any given form (and actually recognized him), he sported some sea creature motif. He answered that, as the child of a Sea God, it was a little connection to his heritage. They laughed, they joked, they drank, they played games and, over the course of the night, all became fast friends. When the sun came up and the group parted, Drew and Claire were the last to leave. She thanked the shapeshifter for showing her a real good time. She proposed that they do it again sometime. Drew was surprised to hear her ask that. She assured him that she had a really great time. This may not be the start of a relationship, but, it was more than just a fun, drunken hook-up. She proposed that next time, he could hang out with her group of friends. Captain Perfect and Jeanette would just love him to pieces. One can never have too many friends, right? Besideswhich, she was planning a not-so-little get-together in the near future, and she wanted as many friends and well-wishers to attend as possible.

    Drew agreed, and offered her a lift home to The Fortress of Evening. Not wanting to catch an Uber, she accepted. She simply had ONE little request. She had that same mischievous look in her eye as she had earlier when the evening started.

    ...If one was awake at the very start of the morning that day in New York City, and was facing in the right direction at just the right moment, one would have witnessed quite a rare, strange and compelling sight - Claire Jones, the statuesque blonde superheroine, wielding a sword and shield made of malleable black alien materials and screaming with twisted glee as she rode, nude, like some bizarre mash-up of a Valkyrie and a super-powered Lady Godiva, atop the winged, rainbow-maned unicorn that was Drew Dane, across the purple and orange morning sky, toward the Fortress of Evening.

Continued from THIS STORY.

Artwork by the incomparable TheCosmicBeholder

As is customary:
"The character of Jenny Everywhere is available for use by anyone, with only one condition. This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Jenny Everywhere, in order that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed."
Universal Destruction 2: Captain Callipygian
   Her name was Tia Gallagher. Everybody always took her for a joke. Even back in middle school, the torrent of teasing and fat jokes never stopped. Bullies, 'mean girls' and jerk-asses who thought that being 'funny' was a quick ticket to schoolyard popularity - and by 'funny', they meant picking on people and hurling insults - all saw her as an easy target. That is, until the day she struck back. One such asshole, Kirk Perkins, a bespetacled wanna-be 'gangsta' who was almost as portly as she was, went one step too far - insulting not only her, but, her brother, Frankie, who was wheelchair bound. Tia lost her cool. She admitted as much, later on, after she, Kirk and Frankie had been dragged into the principal's office.

    She pushed Kirk, slamming her chubby palms into his equally chubby chest, knocking him back about two or three feet, stunning him. The shocked thug-larva stumbled, then, lunged at her.  In defense, not knowing if her assailant would hit a girl, but, figuring he would, as a steady diet of gangsta rap about beating down 'bitches' will do that to a teenager trying to front at being a tough guy. She didn't hit hard, but, she hit hard enough. Kirk Perkins flew backward, his nose trickling blood from his wide left nostril. Frankie took this opportunity to swing is chair to the side, the footrest biting into the back of Kirk's foot, just above his ankle. His wide back made a 'smacking' sound as it hit the linoleum in the school hallway, eliciting an amused "OOOOOH!" from the assembled witnesses. The last thing Kirk Perkins saw through his thick glasses was the rather prodigious bottom of Tia Gallagher dropping down from on high, landing on his flabby chest and knocking the wind out of him. He woke up in the school nurses office, was given a clean bill of health, save the ache in his weak sternum, and was directed to see principal Lewis immediately.

    Kirk Perkins avoided Tia and Frankie Gallagher like the plague from that day forward. The bullies gave them both wide berth, and the mean girls... were slightly less mean. Still bitchy toward them both, but, mostly keeping catty comments to FaceBook and under-their-breath whispers, fearing getting sat on by the brand new "Big Girl On Campus".

    From that day on, Tia was unafraid to stand up for herself. As time went by, she gained a reputation. Sure, people still talked smack about her weight, but, were smart and/or cowardly enough to only do so when she wasn't around to hear it.
She went through high school as an unofficial protector of the weak and weird and bullied. In college, she joined the Women's Wrestling team, and studied law. She was a virtual prodigy and went through law school and passed the bar at the tender age of 27. She was still a big girl, but, she'd long ago made peace with that, and it no longer bothered her. None of her detractors in life were clever enough to insult her with anything other than jokes about her weight to try and get under her skin, so, they were basically powerless.
Still, there was something that she felt she was missing. She wanted something more out of life than the dream of someday becoming District Attorney for her Seattle, Washington area. That dream came true while attending a lecture at Western Washington University's lecture hall. The speaker was a former superhero, Karen Rossdale, formerly known as 'Solid'. Solid was a rare bird, indeed. Superhero culture had, at least briefly, saturated America's fancy, via big budget blockbuster movies and video games. Comic books, which had almost become a dead medium during the 1990s and early 2000's, had seen such a resurgence, thanks to these expensive celluloid extravaganzas, that there were even some (delusional) folks in places like L.A., New York, Chicago and here in Seattle, who had taken it upon themselves to don admittedly decent cosplay creations and try to 'fight crime'. That didn't always end well for them.
Of course, unbeknownst (or, at the very least, unbelieved) by the public, some of these self-made superheroes really did have superpowers. Solid was one of them. Possessing a strange pink domino mask that was bequeathed to her by her grandmother, Karen Rossdale gained the power of invincibility. She was not necessarily superstrong, but, she was all but invulnerable to physical harm, and could shift her own density from that of diamond hard and as heavy as a boulder of lead, to intangible with the ability to walk on air as though it was the concrete of her beloved city. Alternately the immovable object, or the unstoppable force. Her grandmother claimed that the mask was magical, but, Karen never believed in magic. Still, the mask made her a self-styled superhero, so she rarely questioned the veracity of its origins. It had been many years since she'd retired, but, she almost always kept the mask on her at all times. She had it with her during her lecture that fateful day. A pity that she hadn't donned it before the shooting started.

    The self-proclaimed anarchists fancied themselves crusaders against the "lie" of law and order, and aimed to make a statement against the 'corrupted system' by stemming the growth of new lawyers-in-the-making. They were swift. They were brutal. Karen Rossdale was the third person in the crowded room to die in a hail of gunfire. Having sat in the front row, Tia Gallagher was near the woman when she was shot. She scuttled over to Rossdale, who lay bleeding. The gunmen had entered from the back of the hall, and were making their way forward. Karen Rossdale died in Tia Gallagher's arms. Her last words as her shaking hands reached into her purse and passed the magical pink mask to the last person she'd ever talked to was "Solid". Being a bemused and amused fan of some of Seattle's local 'crime fighters', Tia recognized the mask, and the word. Having no time to worry whether any of this was real or not, Tia donned the mask a split second before a swarm of bullets bored into her back... and fell, spent, to the floor behind her.
The mask was real! With a resolve borne  of anger ad outrage, Tia Gallagher rose. She turned to her armed assailants and with a cry, she charged them. She bulldozed each of them to the ground and trampled each one, breaking bones like twigs. Seven people had died in that room, that day, but, 18 more had been spared, thanks to the effort of Tia Gallagher. When the police and the reporters showed up, they saw the broken men on the ground, their guns piled in the far corner, and a rather rotund masked heroine leaving the scene as fast as her legs would carry her. The media got hold of the story, as did the internet. Of course, humanity being what it was, the weight of the crimefighter was a more frequently discussed topic than the villains she'd defeated, or the lives she'd saved. None of the survivors identified her. Only three people in that room had even known her NAME, muchless who she actually was, and two of those poor folks had lost their lives that day.

    Still, Tia dropped out of college that day. She hid out for a solid week trying to figure out what to do. The Internet was having a field day with speculation and, of course,  insults. Everyone was trying to deconstruct her identity, motives and place in society through the filters of everything from fitness to feminism to fetishism.

    Though unsatisfied with all this, Tia had decided that perhaps this was her destiny - to show her strength to the world and make her place in it - not despite her weight, but, perhaps BECAUSE of it! She would be a superhero! Maybe she would be the next 'Solid'... or, maybe, considering the way she was already regarded, she should be someone else. Someone who could stand up to her detractors with a smile.. and a JOKE! If the internet and the news and the talk shows were so adamant about focusing on her weight, maybe she should beat them to the punch. That's one of the ways she handled the mean girls back in high school, at least before she was forced to beat some respect into them...

    Three weeks later, down in the Renton area, south of Seattle, a gang of robbers, attempting to bring down an armored car filled with the payroll for the local branch of a famed National Technology and social media firm was confronted by a most unexpected heroine: A rather hefty and voluptuous lass, barefoot, in a white and pink costume comprised of a tight white top sporting a stylized "CC", fashioned to look like the silhouette of round buttocks, a short cape that came to the middle of the woman's back, and a pink thong that had no hope in hell of leaving any part of the prodigious backside in which it was wedged to the imagination. She also sported a pink mask across her face that no one could have guessed was magical and provided her with invulnerability!
Shots fired bounced right off the flesh of this big-booty'd berserker as if they were spitballs. The assailants threw punches that practically broke their hands, even when they aimed for the tummy, which should have bee pillow soft. One man rammed the butt of his assault rifle across this odd woman's face, but only wound up smashing the rifle itself into several pieces. The half-clad superheroine took the offensive - bumping her massive hips into one criminal, launching sideways into a parked car, knocking him cold.  She grabbed the second man and squeezed his face into her plush bosom until he lost consciousness. This gave the third man time to car-jack a nearby motorist for his Acura, and aim the speeding vehicle at the superhero. He was the leader of the job, and didn't spend a month plotting and planning this heist to be thwarted by some fat do-gooder! Our heroine noted the impending attack. Knowing that she couldn't outrun a car, she concentrated, using the other side of her powers to make herself, and the unconscious criminal that she was still clutching, intangible. The boss of the robbery crew plowed the Acura right through the ghostly girl and the goon she held, plowing into the side of the building behind her. Not bothering to fasten his seatbelt, he would spend months in the hospital before spending even more months in a prison hospital.
There was but one left, and he was the brother of the boss. He wanted vengeance and was not thinking clearly enough to realize that a physical attack would do no good. He charged her. Still lighter than air, the pink powerhouse leapt skyward. The masked maniac was taken aback. Stopping in his tracks, he was stunned that such a large girl could leap at all, muchless that high. It was too late for him when logic whispered in his ear that she who goes up must come down, and she was about to come down on HIM. BOOM!! The maneuver that she would use again and again, and later name the "ABC - Atomic Butt Crush" had claimed the first of many victims.

    The cops and news media swarmed. Witnesses gave testimony and when asked who she was, and why she would dress like that in public, Tia Gallagher answered that she was known as 'Captain Callipygian' (A name she'd worked up the previous day), she was a superhero, whether the snarky reporter liked it or NOT, and why shouldn't she dress like that?! After al, if SO MANY anorexic girls with big fake tits could dress like hookers, beat up on men and "express their sexuality" while calling themselves "heroines", (as though THAT really had anything to do with being a HEROINE), then why couldn't ANY good samaritan - especially one with the size and superpowers to actually FIGHT instead of just striking poses and being put in "peril" all the damned time?! The Captain assured the viewing public that she realized that she was half naked, but, finding pants that fit was difficult enough without them getting destroyed everytime she flexed her leg muscles or took a hard punch that sent her flying. Tia was very eager to show all and sundry that she had a sense of humor about thing. She didn't take herself seriously, but, she did take superheroing seriously! She HAD to! A woman had died so that she could spend the rest of her days trying to help people and make a positive difference!

    That was the start of Captain Callipygian's infamous superhero career. Said career would end one year to the day after it began - when the flaming, demonic superbeings fell from the sky and began to decimate the Earth - including twisted mirror images of The Good Captain, herself - one of which, a morbidly obese harridan with a hatred of herself that she planned on taking out on this world's Tia Gallagher; the other, an anorexically thin version, whom, before being corrupted, ironically called herself "Stick Figure", equally as self-loathing and willing to murder Captain Callipygian to amuse herself. The two of them, as well as the plethora of other demonic metahumans ravaged Seattle, and the other self-proclaimed superheroes of the city, most of whom had no superpowers, were obliterated. The small handful who DID possess powers were infected with whatever it was that made these invaders into ghoulish spectres, and turned to the Dark Side. Captain Callipygian defeated the larger version of herself, but, the anorexic nightmare that was Stick Figure was bearing down on her, sure to end her life, when suddenly, the air itself split open with an audible buzz/pop sound.

    There stood a petite Chinese girl with air goggles atop her brow, a flowing white scarf and a yellow spaghetti-strapped blouse with a lower case letter 'J' emblazoned on the front.
    "Not to sound like a nerd, but - 'Come Vith me iff you Vant to LIVE"! With that, she grabbed Captain Callipygian by the hand and the duo promptly disappeared into nothingness, leaving Seattle, and Earth, to it's miserable fate.


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lastiecchi Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2019  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
lastiecchi Featured By Owner Apr 19, 2019  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
lastiecchi Featured By Owner Mar 10, 2019  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
yooo how ye sent u sumething
lastiecchi Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2019  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
lastiecchi Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2019  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
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