“It’s coming.”

Cindy took a second to orient herself. She lay face down in something gritty. Dirt. She was weary and a little dizzy and didn’t want to move.

“It’s coming!” the voice repeated with more urgency.

She picked her head up, spat out some dirt, and opened her eyes. It was day, and she was lying in a field. “Wha . . . what’s going on?”

“You’re going to die if you don’t get up and start running,” said the voice. It almost felt like it was in her own head.

Cindy struggled to her feet, still feeling a bit disoriented. Ahead of her, she saw a tree line and what looked to be buildings somewhere beyond that—a city. She looked behind her and saw another forested area of taller trees, though it looked dark there—almost like night. It made Cindy glance up at the blue sky to once again confirm that it was day. When she looked again at the trees behind her, she noticed not only was it dark there, it appeared to be rapidly getting even darker.

“RUN!” screamed the voice.

It was all the urging Cindy needed. She ran in the direction of the buildings, stumbling a bit as she tried to get her bearings. She looked behind her, and it was so dark she almost couldn’t see the trees anymore. Yet strangely, in that darkness, she spotted a figure at its center, somehow darker than black. And that figure was walking toward her.

“What is that?” Cindy yelled.

“An anomaly,” answered the voice calmly. “It’s going to destroy everything. You need to get off-planet.”

It took Cindy a moment to process that as she ran. She glanced behind her. She did seem to be moving faster than whatever was after her. “What?! Off-planet? Am I supposed to go up to Elon Musk and ask for a ride?”

“I don’t know who that is,” answered the voice. “Just get to the city.”

Cindy kept taking quick looks behind her. She was putting more and more distance between her and whatever that was. She noticed that, up in the blue sky, she could faintly see the moon. Except it wasn’t the moon. It looked slightly smaller and green. And then she saw another moon. “I am not on Earth,” she exclaimed. “How am I not on Earth?”

“Is Earth your home planet?” asked the voice.

“Yes, it’s my home planet!” Cindy screamed. She was almost to the forest that lay between her and the city. She looked behind her, and there was only the darkness and the figure at its center.

“Okay, I’m gathering you’re from a civilization that isn’t spacefaring,” said the voice. “Do you at least understand the concept of a starship?”

Cindy reached the trees. She jumped over brush and tried to find a clear path, hoping whatever was behind her would be slowed down as well. “I’ve seen Star Wars.”

“I’m not going to get your pop culture references, but I’m going to take that as a ‘Yes.’”

Cindy located a worn trail and got back into a run. If the thing was still after her, she couldn’t see it through the trees. The immediate panic subsided enough for a new one to overtake her. “Where is my family?”

“They’re safe at home,” the voice answered. “Only you traveled.”

Trying to comprehend what was going on and keep her feet was almost too much for Cindy. “Traveled how?”

“Let’s just say you didn’t travel in x, y, or z. Instead, you traveled in a fourth direction.”

Cindy almost stumbled on a root. “Time?”

“Fifth direction,” the voice said, almost sounding annoyed.

The adrenaline was starting to fade, and Cindy began to slow down. She still couldn’t see that thing anymore. “I need you to explain who you are and what is going on.”

“You need to keep moving,” urged the voice. “When you get on a starship and get off this planet, I will have time to explain everything. Just know, for now, the only way you are going to live is to listen to me. What’s your name?”

“Cindy Hampton.”

“Well, Cindy Hampton, you can call me Link.”

“Like from Legend of Zelda?”

“I am not going to get your pop culture references.”

Cindy pulled her iPhone out of her pocket as she kept moving. There were no bars. Probably because she was somehow on an alien planet. She put the phone away and saw an end to the trees ahead of her. She glanced back. “Is that thing still after me?”

“It most certainly is. You can’t stop moving. You need to get on a starship.”

Cindy reached the end of the path. Beyond the trees stretched a green field—a park on the edge of the city. The buildings were metal and shiny, architecture like she had never seen. Some looked non-euclidian. She wanted to stop and admire them, but apparently, there was an “anomaly” after her. “I don’t know how to fly a starship.”

“I’ll explain everything to you. Just do what I tell you, and I’ll get you through this.”

Cindy ran through the grass. She looked back to the trees behind her, and perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought the whole forest was beginning to get darker. “You’ll get me back to my family?”

“I will. I’m sorry you’re involved with this, Cindy, but I can get you through this. Just follow my instructions.”

Cindy came out of the park at the foot of one of the futuristic skyscrapers. The ground appeared to be something other than pavement—softer but still not very yielding. “How do I find my way to a starship?” Cindy then noticed a sign on a post that said “Starport” and had an arrow. “Oh.”

As she walked, she saw other people on the street (humans—since she was on another planet, she started to wonder why; then again, the sign was in English). A few of the people looked at her oddly. Cindy looked down at her clothes, which were jeans and a pink t-shirt she had put on that morning, the t-shirt bearing the image of a sassy-looking Minnie Mouse. It made her look quite different from the other people in what Cindy could best describe as “future clothing”—colorful garments made of a material she couldn’t identify. But, despite the odd looks, everyone just continued walking like everything was normal. “Do we need to warn everyone about what’s coming?” Cindy whispered to Link, now a bit more conscious that she appeared to be talking to herself since others were around her.

“The way to help the most people is to get you off this planet,” Link answered. “Just get to a ship as quickly as you can.”

Cindy looked behind her. The park she’d come from was beginning to darken. She began to run (netting more odd looks) and wondered once again whether she should say something about whatever was coming. But she was already far past the first people she had seen, and it was too late. All she could think about was that she would need plenty of time to figure out how to fly a spaceship.

She followed the signs, turned down another street, and saw a colossal raised platform ahead. She kept glancing behind her but didn’t see anything through all the city's buildings. “Is that the starport ahead of me? Can you see what I see?”

“I have visual on you,” Link answered. “And that is the starport.”

Cindy continued to the starport, passing by more people who regarded her oddly. “If you’re nearby,” Cindy whispered, self-conscious again, “is there any way you can help me more than just with advice?”

“I’m not nearby. I need you to get to me. Now get to the starport and take the nearest elevator up to the platform.”

Cindy saw some doors near the base and headed for them, assuming that would lead to an elevator. “And what do I do when I get to the platform?” Cindy asked. “Say, ‘One starship, please!’?”

The doors lead into a glass enclosure that seemed to be the elevator. There was already another woman in there, wearing what was apparently an era-appropriate purple outfit. She gave Cindy a polite smile while taking a wary glance at her jeans and Minnie Mouse t-shirt. Cindy gave her a thumbs-up and immediately wondered why she’d done that.

“We’ll see the situation when we get there,” Link answered.

The elevator started to rise. “How hard is it to pilot a starship?” Cindy whisper-asked, but she still got an odd glance from the other woman in the elevator.

“Not hard; I will tell you what to do.”

Cindy nodded, though she wasn’t sure if Link could know she nodded. She looked out the elevator as it got higher and finally saw past the skyscrapers. Beyond them, despite the sunny day, it was dark. And the darkness was headed her way.

“Not good. Not good,” Cindy muttered, wishing a future-elevator moved faster. She wondered what the other woman in the elevator thought of the darkness, but the other woman was determined to look the other way so as not to make eye contact with Cindy again.

The elevator stopped, and the door opened. The other woman was quick to try to get out, but Cindy was in even more of a rush, pushing past her to emerge onto the large platform. On the platform were many vehicles of different sizes that seemed to fit the description “starship.” “What now?”

“What kind of security are you seeing?” Link asked.

Cindy looked around. Several people in uniforms who looked something like police officers were scattered about. At their hips were some sort of guns—lasers, maybe, Cindy guessed. Still, she briefly wondered if she should ask them for help instead of the voice in her head. “I see a number of people here who look like police or security guards or something.”

“Okay. Do you see any sort of maintenance area?”

Cindy saw a small building-like structure with an open door and what looked like tools inside. “Yeah, I’m headed to that,” Cindy said as she approached the shed.

“I want you to find a tool,” Link told her, “something solid but not too large.”

Cindy found something like a wrench in a toolbox on the ground and picked it up. “Okay. Got that.”

“Now, you’re going to need to be quick with this. You’re going to need to approach one of the security people, smile and be polite, but then hit him and take his gun.”

“What?” Cindy exclaimed, barely suppressing a full yell. “Are you a good voice or a bad voice?”

“I am trying to keep you alive,” Link answered. “And the only way I’m going to do that is by getting you off-planet.”

“Ma’am, can I help you?” asked someone behind Cindy.

She quickly turned around to see one of the people in uniform had approached her. She smiled and hid the wrench behind her back. “Oh. Hey. Yeah, I just need to get in one of these ships here.”

“Are one of these ships yours?” he asked and then made an odd expression as he looked at Cindy’s clothes. He looked like he was about to ask another question but had decided against it.

“Well, I was told to come here, and . . .” Cindy shot a look over the edge of the platform. There was almost nothing but darkness in the direction she’d come from.

“What is up with the weather?” exclaimed the maybe-police-officer.

“He’s distracted!” Link shouted. “Hit him!”

Cindy looked at the man who was now just staring at the darkness and briefly considered listening to the voice, but then she spotted the woman in purple from the elevator only a few yards away. The woman was approaching a ship with an open cockpit, very vaguely like an X-wing. Cindy ran for it, shoving the woman in purple out of the way and jumping in the cockpit. “Sorry!” Cindy exclaimed as she tried to figure out how to close the cockpit.

“She’s stealing my ship!” screamed the woman in purple.

“Orange switch to your right,” said Link. Cindy found the switch, flipped it, and the cockpit canopy closed over her.

The police officer appeared next to the cockpit. “Get out of there immediately!” he commanded and pulled out some sort of silver pistol.

“Oh no! Future gun!” Cindy exclaimed, trying to duck farther into the seat.

“He’s bluffing,” said Link. “Just listen to me on getting this thing off the ground. First, I need you to pull the center lever in front of you.”

Cindy pulled the lever in front of her and could feel the ship begin to lift off the ground. She then heard a sharp, harsh sound and saw the police officer firing at her as they lifted past him. “Not bluffing!” Cindy shrieked.

“It’s not going to break the hull; ignore it,” Link instructed. “You should see a steering wheel. I need you to very gently pull down on that.”

Cindy could feel something hitting her ship, and it was hard for her to do anything gently when someone was firing an unknown sort of weapon at her, but she eased back on the steering wheel, and the ship lifted farther. It also started to reorient, pointing its nose up until Cindy was lying on her back in the cockpit seat.

“Good. Now you should see a flashing red button on the center screen. Hit that.”

The red button said, Launch. “Should I strap in or something?” Cindy asked.

“Acceleration will hold you in place. Just hit the button.”

Cindy slammed the button with her palm. And true to Link’s word, Cindy was pressed firmly into her seat as the ship rocketed skyward. She quickly went past the clouds until there was nothing but blue out the windshield in front of her. The blue darkened until it became black, and she could see the stars. “Oh, no! I’m in space,” Cindy muttered.

“You’ll be fine,” Link assured her. “This next part is going to get more complicated. You’re going to need to plot your course.”

“Aren’t I safe now?” Cindy asked. “I mean, that thing is not getting a ship of its own, is it?”

“It’s still after you; you are not safe yet.”

“I was outrunning it, and now I’m in a rocket ship,” Cindy said. “I think I have a few minutes. I want you to explain what’s going on.”

“You are not safe, Cindy. That thing is going to get faster. You need to listen to me and plot a course to where I tell you.”

“No, you need to listen to me and tell me what’s going on!” Cindy felt her body become lighter as the ship stopped accelerating. “Where is my family right now?”

“Your family is perfectly safe in a completely different universe,” Link said. “Do you understand?”

“I woke up in an alternate universe on a different planet?” Cindy asked. She was starting to float out of her seat.

“Yes. You got it.”

“How?”

“Just bad luck. You got caught up in an interdimensional anomaly.”

Cindy now tried to find a seat belt to keep from floating away. “What is that thing after me?”

“I . . . I don’t know. It’s a part of the anomaly. It’s after whatever is not originally a part of this universe. And it will destroy anything in its way.”

Cindy was awkwardly trying to hold herself in her seat and search for some straps or something. “That’s all you have for me? Well, who are you?”

“I’m a scientist trying to fix this anomaly.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting the authorities to help you?”

“They wouldn’t understand; I’m not a part of this universe either. Is that enough for now? You need to keep moving.”

“Yeah, I guess . . . but, wait, how are you communicating with me? If I just suddenly popped into this universe, how’d you get a transmitter on me?”

“There’s no transmitter. I’m using brainwave-attuned transmission. It’s complicated. I can tell you all about it when you’re in a more safe position.”

Cindy turned around to look for straps behind the seat, but then, through the cockpit’s canopy, she caught a glimpse of the planet she had left. It was green and blue like Earth, but with a large dark spot at the center—and the dark spot was growing faster and faster, overtaking all the green and blue.

Transfixed, Cindy watched the whole planet become nothing but black—just an empty round spot in space where there were no stars. And soon after, the black completely overtook the planet. It fell apart like dissipating smoke, revealing the stars behind it. Where there was once a planet, there was now nothing.

“Did . . . did that planet just disintegrate?”

“And that’s what will happen to you if you don’t get out of here now,” Link told her.

Cindy’s hand covered her mouth. “Everyone there just died?” She thought of the woman in purple she stole the ship from.

“A lot more will die if you don’t listen to me now,” Link said with added urgency.

Cindy got back down in the seat and finally found the seatbelt, strapping herself in. She tried to calm herself, but she had this unnerving feeling something was behind her and coming for her. “If I get to you, can you get me back to my family?”

“I can; just listen and be quick. Look on the screen for a button labeled Navigate.”

Cindy found the button and pushed it. “Got it.”

“Now you need to—”

“Vehicle 397A7L, do not attempt to flee,” came another voice, this one over a speaker in the cockpit. “Prepare to relinquish control of your ship.”

Cindy looked out the cockpit canopy and noticed an enormous spaceship, some distance away but moving closer.

“Ignore them,” Link said. “You need to finish your navigation and get out of here.”

“Maybe they can help,” Cindy protested.

“They cannot help. This is above them. If they capture you, you are as good as dead. Now find the on-screen button that says, Long-Distance Travel.”

Cindy was about to do as told, but she felt her ship lurch, and the screen changed to one big word: LOCKED. Cindy could see the other, massive ship more clearly. It was very blocky, not at all aerodynamic-looking. The side bore a giant blue symbol that somewhat resembled a sword and shield. Cindy’s ship was now pointed directly at it and seemed to be thrusting toward it.

“Keep your hands in the air after landing, or you will be shot,” said the voice over the intercom.

“Ignore them,” said Link. “You’re dead if they get you either way. You’re going to need to override the lock-out. Look for a green button next to the screen and hold it down.”

Cindy found and held down the button. “Are these good guys or bad guys?”

“They’re nothing,” Link answered. “And they’re about to all die if you don’t get away from here.”

Cindy looked back to see if the anomaly was still after her but realized she was looking for black against black.

The LOCKED message disappeared, and small green text streamed down the screen. “I think it’s, like, rebooting or something.”

“Quick. Press the blue button underneath the screen.”

Cindy pressed the button, and the screen went blue and showed a very simple menu.

“Put your hands in the air, or we will shoot you!”

Looking around, Cindy found her craft was now entirely inside the larger ship. A half-dozen uniformed men and women surrounded her ship, all holding odd-looking guns that were at least recognizable as something she didn’t want pointed at her. Cindy raised her hands.

“You need to finish the override and get out of here!” Link urged.

Cindy did not see herself doing that with all the guns pointed at her. She kept her hands up and remained still. The canopy came open, and one man undid her seat belt while another roughly pulled her out of the cockpit. Cindy was patted down (she made a small yelp of protest), and they pulled her phone from her pocket. “Something is after me,” Cindy managed to say. Cindy noticed she wasn’t floating; there seemed to be gravity on the ship somehow. This would have all been really interesting if she wasn’t in constant fear for her life.

She felt a gun barrel against her back. “Move!” barked one of the men, and Cindy kept her hands up and walked into a hallway, where she saw more men and women in uniforms watching her—some uniforms were more officer-like. She wondered whether this space military was more Federation or Empire.

“You have to get away, or you are dead,” Link told her, though that seemed like useless information with all the guns pointed at her.

She was led into a small room with a metal table at the center and forced to sit in a chair on one side of it. Into the room walked a middle-aged woman in what appeared to be an officer’s uniform. She kept an icy glare on Cindy as she took a seat opposite her.

A soldier placed Cindy’s phone on the table near the officer. “Captain Akins, we found this on her,” he said.

Captain Akins picked up the phone and looked it over. The soldiers left the room, leaving Cindy and Akins alone.

“Does she have a gun on her?” Link asked. “You’ll need to get it and use it to get out of here.”

Cindy was starting to think Link watched too many action movies.

“Nabos is gone,” Akins said, keeping a steely gaze on Cindy. “Everyone on it dead. We know you have something to do with it.”

Cindy gasped at the mention of the dead. She tried to compose her thoughts, but there were many, many thoughts to put in order. “Something is after me. It is still after me. I think we’re in danger.”

“Are you threatening me?” Akins growled.

“No, no, no! I didn’t cause this. I just got pulled into it, I think. I woke up on that planet, and—”

Akins held up the phone. “What is this? It looks like an antique computing device.”

“Actually, that’s the latest model where I’m from. It’s got pictures of my husband and kids on there—I can show you.” Cindy reached for the phone, but Akins roughly grabbed her hand.

“Who are you?” Akins demanded.

“I’m just a person—a housewife. Well, I do some part-time computer programming work. But I think I’m from another dimension, and I got pulled here, and something is after me, and I really need your help.”

“They’re not going to help you,” Link said. “They’re not going to understand. You need to get out of here, or you’re going to die.”

“And there is a voice talking to me,” Cindy told Akins, “but I’m not sure it’s giving me the best advice.”

“A voice? Someone is transmitting to you?” asked Akins. “Who?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t explained very much, but he seems to know about the thing after me.”

“Tell me everything you know about who is talking to you and the thing that destroyed Nabos.”

“Well, I don’t really know anything. I’ve just been running, and—”

Akins grabbed Cindy by her hair, slammed her head onto the metal table, and held it there. Cindy then felt the barrel of a gun against her temple. “Over a billion people just died, and we know it has something to do with you!” Akins growled. “Do you think there is any limit to what I’ll do to make you talk?”

“You’re taking too much time,” said Link. “You need to get that gun and get out of here, or you’re dead!”

Yeah, I’ll get right on that, Cindy thought as her face was pressed into the table and the barrel kept poking her head. “You have to listen to me,” Cindy pleaded. “We’re in danger. Whatever destroyed that planet is after me.”

“You’re saying a creature did that?” Akins demanded.

“I don’t know what it is, but it’s some sort of thing that is coming after me because I don’t belong in the universe or something—at least, that’s what the voice told me.”

The gun barrel pressed harder against Cindy’s skull. “Who is the voice?”

A sharp alarm started blaring. Akins released her and stood up. “A hull breach?” Akins uttered, seeming confused.

“It’s here,” Link said.

Akins crept to the door and opened it. Immediately, the vacuum sucked Akins out of the room. Cindy shrieked and grabbed onto the table, which seemed bolted to the floor. She saw her new phone fly by her and out the door as she clung for her life.

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“A real-life supervillain,” the anchorwoman announced.

Footage showed the Cowl with his mask off, being taken in by the U.S. military.

“Billionaire Max Stratton, a.k.a., the Cowl, a.k.a. Armored Justice, attempted to launch a nuclear missile at Chicago.”

“Interesting choice,” commented her cohost.

“The missile was a dud, though,” the anchorwoman continued, “and hit down harmlessly near the Mokovian village of...” The anchorwoman squinted. “If the teleprompter isn’t spelling it out phonetically, I’m not even attempting it.”

“But a true superhero has emerged and helped bring Max Stratton to justice,” the anchorman stated. “The Ocean Commander!”

Footage played of Splash at a press conference. “Yes, that traitor, the Cowl, and his accomplice, Fatale, had taken down the rest of the Protectors, but they were no match for me, the Ocean Commander. Even though the hero Fly-Over is no more, I want to assure everyone the world is still in good hands.” He winked at the cameras. “Or at least two-thirds of it.”

“In other news,” the anchorwoman said solemnly, “the Pink Princess is gone.” She then smiled. “She’s now the Pink Avenger.”

“Was she kicked out of the pink monarchy?” the anchorman asked with a chuckle.

“I think it’s a rebranding.”

There was an image of a smiling Madeline in her new superhero outfit. It was just as pink as the first, but now it had pants instead of a miniskirt.

“The Pink Avenger, a.k.a. Madeline Larson,” the anchorwoman continued, “had joined a rogue superhero group and killed two heads of state of the country of Mokovia. The Hague has declined to try her, though, since she says both killings were accidents and she’s really sorry and won’t ever be a rogue superhero again. Also, Mokovia is in the middle of a civil war, and it’s unclear who is in charge.”

“I hope that works out for them,” the anchorman commented.

“As for the Pink Avenger, she is now back to working for the Protectors and learning to be a proper superhero.”

Madeline finished watching the news clip on her phone. Most of the reactions to her “reforming” seemed to have been positive.

“It’s time,” Faulkner told her.

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<PREV

The Cowl watched as Madeline used her powers to make her way to the launching missile and latch onto the side of it. “See? You’re proof this will work!” he shouted at her. “Look at what you had to overcome, and now you’re a real hero! But you can’t stop me! I have great plans for this world!”

The Cowl felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around just in time to get a fist to his face, knocking him hard to the ground.

“Know who else had great plans and got punched out by me?” said the man standing over him.

Madeline had to focus all her will into her forcefield. It was taking quite a battering from the wind as the missile went at tremendous speed through the air. Yet, the forcefield held and kept Madeline pressed against the surface of the giant rocket. She needed to let up on it, though, so she could think a moment and try to devise a plan to stop a nuclear missile in midair.

“Are you on the missile, Madeline?” came a voice over the earpiece Madeline still had in.

“Harvey!” Madeline exclaimed. “You’re alive!”

“Yeah, I’ve been shot plenty of times,” Harvey admitted. “My body kind of shuts down and accelerates healing. So... what are you doing?”

“Trying to stop a nuclear missile heading for Chicago,” Madeline answered. “Would you happen to know anything about nukes or missiles?”

“They’re kind of after my time,” Harvey said.

“Oh, wait! I took the Cowl’s phone!” Madeline carefully reached into her pocket and took out the smartphone. Carefully, while mainly relying on her forcefields to hold her to the missile, she typed into Google, “how to disarm a nuclear missile,” and waited as the results appeared.

“How is the first result a cat video?!” Madeline exclaimed.

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<PREV

Madeline watched in horror as Fatale emptied the bag of crickets on the ground. They hopped off, and then the chirping began, the forcefield currently surrounding Madeline fluctuating to their sound before finally completely giving out.

Now Madeline stood there, completely exposed to Fatale and the Cowl’s gun. But the Cowl put away his revolver as he smiled. “You’re not as naive as you seem, Maddie,” he said. “You told marketing your powers don’t work well at night, but you didn’t really reveal your weakness, did you?”

Madeline stood there, trying to get her forcefield up, but the chirping was too much. “How’d you...”

“I’ve always been a study of superhero weaknesses — it’s a nice piece of knowledge to have. For you, I was able to detect a certain frequency of your forcefields when you used them. And guess what had the antiphase of it?”

“Crickets?” Fatale laughed. “That’s a pretty lame weakness for an already lame superhero.”

Madeline smiled weakly. “I just try to be careful not to say bad jokes.”

Neither the Cowl nor Fatale responded to that, the only sound being crickets chirping.

“Fly-Over was tougher to figure out,” the Cowl said. “He apparently gets his powers from dark energy or something. But I eventually found in his personnel file he has a bad perfume allergy.”

“And you used me to kill him,” Madeline growled, her anger coming close to — but not quite — overcoming her fear.

“That made everyone fear you; wasn’t that neat?” the Cowl asked. “Anyway, I need to get busy. There’s a Soviet-era nuclear missile that I have to get to launching. Thanks again for distracting the Mokovian military while I took over this base.”

“But why are you doing this?” Madeline asked, so frustrated that she started to tear up. “You framed me.” She looked at the still form of Harvey and felt so much anger boiling inside her she felt sick. “You killed Harvey! And now you’re launching a nuclear missile? Why?”

“There will be plenty of time to explain the master plan when the missile is in the air and headed to a city,” the Cowl told her.

“Can I kill her now?” Fatale asked.

“No, that would ruin the whole point of all this,” the Cowl said. “Just beat her up.” He turned to Madeline. “This should be invigorating for you; haven’t you seen Fight Club?”

Madeline shook her head. “Fight Club is rated R.”

The Cowl pursed his lips. “You’re in way over your head.”

The Cowl left the area to go further into the complex. Fatale had a smug smile and sunk into a fighting stance. “This is going to be fun; like hitting a practice dummy that screams.”

Madeline imitated Fatale’s fighting stance and tried to look determined but failed. She could feel her powers still fritzing to the crickets chirping, which meant she only had her completely non-existent fighting skills to rely on. “He’s going to kill a ton of people with a nuclear weapon!” Madeline exclaimed. “Why are you helping him?”

Fatale laughed. “You’re asking why I’m working for a billionaire? Do you need more clues to help you figure that out, Nancy Drew?”

Madeline frowned. “You are not a nice person.”

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<PREV

Madeline slowly got to her feet while meeting the eyes of the five angry superheroes staring at her. “You have to listen to me. Somebody is trying to—”

There was an ear-splitting tone as Madeline was hit by a screech from Sonicgirl, sending Madeline flying backward. After Madeline hit the ground, she quickly got up a forcefield that deflected the intense soundwaves as Madeline returned to her feet. Next, she saw the Amazonian coming at her with a giant mace, and Madeline dodged out of the way. She saw movement from the Cowl and got a forcefield in place just in time to deflect some throwing stars. The distraction allowed the Amazonian to land a blow; it hit a forcefield, but the force of the impact sent Madeline back to the ground.

Madeline saw the Quickener start to move and knew what was coming was his famous speed punch. She got a forcefield up at foot level just before the Quickener charged, and it tripped him and sent him flying. He landed hard against the ground. “Ah! My hip!”

“Oh no! I didn’t mean to!” Madeline gasped in horror but was interrupted by the Amazonian’s mace. Once again, she deflected the mighty blow with her forcefields, this time barely keeping standing. The Amazonian then came with an overhead strike, smashing into the forcefield and bringing Madeline to the ground. The Amazonian kept pressing against it, and Madeline strained to keep the forcefield in place but felt herself failing, the mace held just inches from Madeline’s face.

A tree collided with the Amazonian’s head, and she fell unconscious to the ground. Holding the tree was Harvey, a jeep behind him. “I hit a woman with a tree!” he exclaimed with a big smile. “I can be a feminist!” He was cut off as the Cowl did a flying kick into him. Madeline ran to help but then spotted Sonicgirl and got her forcefield up just in time to deflect a sonic screech. Sonicgirl braced herself for an even more powerful screech, but just before she released the blast, Madeline put a curved forcefield right in front of her face, which deflected her screech back at Sonicgirl and sent her flying.

As Harvey kept fighting the Cowl, Madeline saw one more foe facing her down: Splash. He had a determined look which Madeline met with her own intensity as she surrounded herself with pink forcefields. Splash then grimaced. “I just came on the off chance you tried to escape by a boat or something.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Madeline told him.

Splash got a determined look again and stared down Madeline again. “Stay out of the ocean!”

Madeline nodded. “I will.”

Splash seemed satisfied and turned and walked away. Madeline once again ran to help Harvey. The Cowl’s blows seemed to do little to phase Harvey, but Harvey was unable to land a punch back with the Cowl’s athleticism.

“Ah! This guy knows all that chop-socky stuff!” Harvey exclaimed.

Madeline projected some forcefields around the Cowl, binding him. “You’re not going to get away with this, Madeline!” the Cowl exclaimed, struggling against her power. “If we couldn’t take you down, the U.S. Army was coming next.”

“We need to get out of here,” Madeline told Harvey, motioning to the jeep. “Grab the Cowl and take him with us; maybe we can explain to him what’s going on.”

Harvey nodded and lifted the bound superhero.

“So you really are her henchman?” the Cowl asked.

“It’s an equal partnership!” Harvey exclaimed as he dropped the Cowl in the back of the jeep and then got into the driver’s seat. “And mainly, it’s just been a lot of fleeing.”

As Harvey drove the jeep away, Madeline turned and faced the Cowl. “You have to listen to me. I’ve been set up.”

The Cowl seemed skeptical. “So you didn’t kill Mokovia’s leaders?”

Madeline grimaced. “It’s... complicated. But I definitely did not kill Fly-Over! And I didn’t post those things online saying I’m happy for what happened with Mokovia’s leaders. Someone is trying to make me look like a supervillain.”

“Who?” the Cowl asked, still skeptical but listening.

“I think this rogue superhero called the Armored Justice,” Madeline said. “He’s who talked me into coming here and gave me the communicator watch that emitted whatever it was that killed Fly-Over.”

“Why would someone set you up?”

Madeline let out a frustrated growl. “I don’t know, but it seems super mean.”

“Well, we know where Armored Justice is,” the Cowl said. “We tracked his location to a nearby military base. We were going to check it out after handling you.”

“Well, I guess we’ll check that out together,” Harvey said, a scowl creasing his face.

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<PREV

It was the sound of footsteps that woke Madeline. It took Madeline a moment to remember where she was: on the ground of some cave, spooning with Harvey for warmth. Harvey took his arms from around her to face whoever had entered the cave. “It’s not what it looks like,” Harvey said. “We did not have sexual relations. I never even confirmed she’s heterosexual.”

Madeline turned to see two figures with rifles standing over them in the cave. For a moment, Madeline thought they were soldiers for a moment, but she quickly recognized them as Nadia and Andrei. “Oh, hey,” Madeline tried with a smile, not getting the friendliest vibe from their expressions (or the fact that they were armed).

“Farmer Andrik said he saw you head into the woods,” Andrei said.

“Oh, is he a member of the resistance?” Madeline asked.

They ignored the question and just stared at Madeline and Harvey.

“So do you think you could take me someplace I could use a phone or something?” Madeline said. “A lot of bad stuff is going on, and I could really use some help.”

Nadia frowned. “You come here, cause chaos in my country, and you want me to help you?”

“Why does she need help?” Andrei said. “She kill invincible Fly-Over; should be able to take on anyone.”

“I didn’t do that!” Madeline pleaded. “I just...” She felt a wave of tears begin to overtake her, and she had to fight hard to keep them down.

Harvey put an arm around Madeline and faced Nadia and Andrei. “You were apparently looking for us, and you found us. What do you want?”

Nadia sighed. “Come with us.”

Nadia and Andrei led them to a nearby village where the streets looked nearly empty.  They went inside a pub crowded with men, women, and children. They took little notice of the new group entering, their frightened faces preoccupied with other things. Some were watching a TV hanging on the wall. On it was a news program that was showing images of Fly-Over. A British voice was speaking, and it seemed to be a UK news program.

“Once again, Fly-Over was murdered by Madeline Larson, a.k.a. the Pink Princess. Many are calling her a supervillain, and she is considered to be extremely dangerous as the full extent of her powers is unknown.”

“Are you very dangerous, Pinkie?” Nadia asked.

“No,” Madeline moaned, transfixed by the news program telling her how much her life was ruined.

There was a still image of Madeline and Harvey from when Madeline confronted the farmer. “She is even said to have a henchman, Harvey Miller, the superhero formerly known as Jingo though many are now calling him ‘the Pinko.’”

“Oh, come on,” Harvey growled. “Why wouldn’t they assume you’re working for me?”

“That’s what’s upsetting you?” Madeline asked, glaring at him.

Harvey was quiet a moment. “Well, I guess it’s bad either way.”

“This just in,” said the news anchor. “Madeline Larson has now posted another statement on Facebook.”

“No, I did not!” Madeline grumbled.

“It reads: ‘Sorry I had to kill Fly-Over. Poop emoji. But he got in the way. Woman shrugging emoji. And I’ll kill anyone else who gets in my way. Winking face with tongue emoji. Nail polish emoji. Smiling face with horns emoji. Grinning cat emoji.”

“Who is framing me and why?” Madeline exclaimed. This got the attention of some of the people in the pub. “I’m being framed, by the way,” she told them. They quickly lost interest in her.

On the TV were Madeline’s parents. Madeline’s heart broke to see the worry on their faces. “Just please come home,” Madeline’s mother pleaded through tears.

The reporter then talked to Madeline’s sister. “What do you think about your older sister killing Fly-Over,” she asked Stacy.

“I’m sure she had a good reason for killing him and anyone else,” Stacy answered. “Maybe you should all stay out of her way.”

“No!” Madeline exclaimed at the TV. “You’re supposed to say, ‘My sister would never do such a thing.’” Madeline turned to Nadia and Andrei. “You have to help get me home. I need to fix this.”

“Oh, are you in trouble?” Nadia said, but even in Madeline’s panicked state, she couldn’t help but notice the sarcasm in Nadia’s voice.

Harvey nudged Madeline and motioned to the people all gathered in the pub. It was then Madeline realized how scared everyone looked there. “What’s going on?”

“After the death of Baron Strytle,” Andrei said, “General Dorokhin wants to make an example of any resistance. His military is on its way to completely raze this town.”

“Oh no!” Madeline exclaimed. “Is anyone coming to help?”

“Who?” Nadia asked bitterly. “Is internal matter — our problem. Plus, rich countries have problems of their own. How is fight against climate going?”

“Well, my parents just installed some solar panels on their house,” Madeline replied and then thought for a moment. “That was sarcasm again. You don’t care.”

“I don’t care.”

“We have guns and people here who can fight,” Andrei told Madeline and Harvey. “But they are scared. But we are thinking they will have bravery if they know superheroes will fight alongside them. That is why we find you.”

“Wait, what are you saying?” Madeline asked.

“They want us to help fight an army,” Harvey said.

“But I’ve just barely begun to figure out how to use my powers,” Madeline told Nadia and Andrei.

“Good time to learn,” Nadia answered.

“She’s just going to get killed out there,” Harvey stated.

“Which is bad because she’s special,” Nadia retorted. “What do you think is going to happen to everyone here?” Nadia faced Madeline. “Are you a superhero?”

Madeline hesitated. Finally, she answered with a barely audible, “Yes.”

Nadia turned to face all the people in the pub. She said some things in their native tongue. A little girl bundled in brown clothes came up to Madeline and tugged on Madeline’s coat and looked up at her hopefully. “Superhero?”

Madeline pushed away all her fear and tried her best to smile confidently as she nodded at the girl. Madeline held out her hand and made a pink heart with her forcefield. It was her best one yet and everyone there looked on with wonder. Madeline then looked back at Harvey, who was not hiding his concern.

“Army almost here,” Andrei told them.

“When it arrives, you two take out the tank,” Nadia ordered them.

Madeline nodded and only afterward processed what was said. “I’m doing what now?”

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<PREV

The news anchor faced the camera with his most well-practiced solemn expression. “We have breaking news. The superhero known as Fly-Over is dead, murdered by Madeline Larson, a.k.a. the Pink Princess.”

The farmer’s video of Madeline played, showing Fly-Over getting hit with the mist. “Pink Princess used some sort of pink mist attack, killing the superhero once thought to be completely invincible.”

Video of Madeline threatening the farmer then played, showing the pink spikes forming around her as she shouted, “Give me that phone!”

“Contrary to previous beliefs about the Pink Princess being a harmless, bumbling idiot,” said the news anchor, “she is now considered extremely dangerous.”

There was video of Grasshopper and the Executioner being taken into custody by the U.S. military. “Members of a rogue superhero group, the Vindicators, have turned themselves into U.S. forces. They deny having anything to do with killing Strytle and describe the Pink Princess as a loner who kept mainly to herself but quickly befriended the superhero Jingo, a known racist.”

Drayton turned off the TV and faced the Protectors who were all seated in the conference room. “We have a superhero problem with Madeline Larson,” he told them, “and the public expects a superhero response. Are you all ready for some combat?”

Most of them did not look ready and grimaced at the idea, but Amazonian held up her spiked mace. “I will crush puny pink girl!”

Faulkner held up her hands in a placating manner. “Let’s try not to brutally murder her. Despite all she’s done, that probably won’t play well.”

“But don’t go easy on her,” Faulkner warned. “She has somehow killed Fly-Over, and we don’t know what else she is capable of.”

“She’s just a confused girl,” said the Cowl. “Let’s try to bring her in without breaking more than one of her limbs.”

“Good attitude!” Faulkner replied. “Anyway, this isn’t going to be very safe — it’s a hostile country with a hostile superpowered individual — but we did get extra life insurance policies on all of you. Sounds good?”

Splash stood up. “You can count on us!”

Faulkner nodded and then turned to Drayton and whispered, “Was he invited to this meeting?”

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<PREV

“Yes, that’s me, the...” Madeline sighed. “Pink Princess.” She concentrated on the shield protecting her, Nadia, and Andrei from the soldiers' rifles. “And as for the last guy who shot at me, that didn’t turn out so well for him.” She thought again about how she accidentally killed Strytle and had to fight back nausea. “So let us go, or I’m... um... going to...”

As Madeline tried to figure out how to end that statement, she realized she didn’t know where Harvey was. Suddenly, one soldier flew through the air, and then another. Harvey had somehow slipped out and flanked them and was now fighting the soldiers with his super strength. “Take that, you Commies!” Harvey yelled as he struck a soldier so hard he flew across the room. Harvey then paused for one brief moment. “Are you Commies?”

The three soldiers left used that pause to flee out the door. Nadia and Andrei quickly grabbed rifles from the knocked-out soldiers while Harvey readied the AK-47 he had under his coat. “We probably should get going,” Harvey told Nadia and Andrei. They nodded.

They went out the door, Madeline sticking close behind Harvey, and soon they were under fire. Harvey, Andrei, and Nadia ran for cover and returned fire while Madeline hid behind them, covering herself in a forcefield. Madeline then spotted four more soldiers coming from another direction about to get the drop on Andrei and Nadia, who were fighting the first group.

“Watch out!” Madeline yelled as she put up a forcefield between them and the soldiers just as they started firing. She could feel the bullets hit the forcefield, and she had to fight collapsing from the strain to keep the shield up.

A whole jeep flew through the air at the soldiers, crashing down among them and causing them to flee in fear of the show of force. “Yeah, you better run,” said Harvey, dusting his hands, “you... I don’t know a slur for you guys yet.” He looked to Madeline. “It’s still okay to use ethnic slurs in battle, right?”

All the soldiers were currently fleeing, as were Nadia and Andrei. “I’d get out of here!” Andrei called to them as he ran with Nadia. “You’ll soon have the whole army coming down on you!”

“Should we follow them?” Madeline asked Harvey.

“Better idea,” Harvey said as he walked over to a motorcycle the soldiers left behind and started it up. “Come on.”

“Oh, I don’t know about this,” Madeline said. “I promised my mother I’d never ride one of these.”

They heard a noise and saw military vehicles headed their way. “Come on!” Harvey urged.

Madeline jumped on. “So there’s not like a seatbelt? And where are the helmets?”

The motorcycle lurched forward, and Madeline clung tight to Harvey. “Man, I hope these people we’re fighting are all bad,” Harvey yelled over the engine's roar. “I might have killed one or two of them. To be honest, I’m a little unclear on the political situation here.”

“I saw a link to an article about this country the other day on Twitter,” Madeline said, “and I really meant to read it.”

Madeline looked behind them to see some jeeps catching up with them. And one had a mounted machine gun that started firing at them. Riding a motorcycle in normal conditions seemed too dangerous to Madeline, but a machine gun firing at you was over the top. Madeline suppressed the panic and put up a forcefield in time to deflect some bullets headed their way. Each shot that struck felt like she was personally absorbing a punch to the gut. “I don’t know how many of these bullets I can stop!”

The motorcycle veered to the left onto a narrow road alongside a mountain, Harvey not slowing down. Madeline looked over to their right and saw a drop-off of a hundred feet down to a forest — without even a guard rail between them and the fall (being this was a poor country). She really didn’t like riding on a motorcycle.

The jeeps following them seemed to be taking the road more cautiously and had fallen far behind, but suddenly Harvey screeched the motorcycle to a stop. Blocking the road ahead was a tank with a cannon pointed right at them. Madeline put up a forcefield between her and the tank, but she really didn’t think she could not stop a tank shell. Harvey looked to be trying to find an option and turned to see the jeeps behind them catching up. They were boxed in. Except for one direction.

“Drive off the cliff!” Madeline yelled.

“What?”

“Do it! And hold on to me!”

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<PREV

Madeline slowly opened her eyes. It was an unfamiliar surrounding; it looked like some abandoned building. She soon realized she wasn’t alone as she saw the big, stupid grin of Harvey who was watching over her. “You’re awake!”

While sitting on the ground, Madeline rubbed her temples and tried to remember what last she saw. “What happened?”

“I found you unconscious, so I got you out of that military base,” Harvey explained. “Leave no man behind... I mean girl... woman. I’m not sexist.”

Madeline could now remember the sounds of gunfire and the certainty she was going to die. “Where is everyone?”

“I think they left us behind. I’ve been trying to get them on the radio, but I don’t really know how to operate it. Radios are so small these days; it’s really neat.”

“Who uses radio?” Madeline said as she searched the pockets of her fatigues. She pulled out her phone, but it was smashed. “When I bought the Hello Kitty bumper, I never thought I’d be taking it into a warzone.” She stood up and looked out a window of the building at an unfamiliar land. “Are we stuck in Mokovia?”

“Yep,” Harvey answered. “And since we just attacked them, they have military patrols looking for us right now. And I’m not so good with geography, so I don’t even know what countries border this one to know where we should try to escape. Now, you wouldn’t happen to know the language they speak here... or even the name of the language they speak here?”

Madeline sighed. “We so need Google.”

Harvey nodded. “Not to be critical, but you wouldn’t have happened to have killed the Mokovian head of state?”

Now Madeline remembered the moments just before she blacked out with Baron Stytle firing at her. “He shot at me, and I deflected the bullets with my force field and—” She saw in her memory the bullets hitting Stytle, and she had to brace herself to keep from throwing up. “I never sorta killed someone before.”

Harvey knelt to lightly pat her on the back. “I wouldn’t worry about it... definitely going to be a sticking point with the army that’s after us, though.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

“We’re just going to have to see what we can see and play it by ear,” Harvey said. “This isn’t the worst situation I’ve ever been in. Remember, I fought the Nazis. I once punched Hitler.”

Madeline stood up. “Hopefully, people here aren’t Hitler fans.”

Harvey chuckled and patted her on the back again. “Don’t worry; I’ll protect you.”

Madeline was so scared she only half felt insulted from being patronized. “I’m a superhero, too, you know.”

Harvey nodded. “Sure.” He walked over to a nearby table and picked up a rifle. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know how to operate one of these newfangled AK-47s, would you?”

Madeline shook her head.

Harvey looked confused. “You didn’t have a rifle course in elementary school?”

Again, Madeline shook her head. “No.”

Harvey shrugged. “Well, I do hear people complain about the education system these days a lot.” He held up a second rifle. “I got two; you want one?”

Madeline made a disgusted face. “Superheroes don’t use guns.”

“We kinda do,” Harvey said. “Especially in times of war.”

“I thought you had an American flag staff or something.”

“That was really for publicity,” Harvey said. “During the actual fighting in World War II, I mainly just shot people.” His eyes went distant. “I shot a lot of people. Nazis, though. Still, a lot of them were just regular guys with families and stuff. I know people kill Nazis all the time in video games these days, but in real life, it’s not a lot of fun.” He was quiet for a few seconds and then looked at Madeline with concern. “Is it racist to feel bad about killing Nazis?”

“Not something to worry about right now,” Madeline told him.

Harvey nodded. “You seem stressed. Here.” From out of his belt, he pulled out a metal baton and handed it to Madeline. “This is my collapsible America flag staff. I brought it as a good luck charm. Why don’t you take it, so you at least have a weapon.”

Madeline took the baton and held it. It was only a little over a foot long in its collapsed state and had a nice weight.

“I’d keep that out of sight,” Harvey warned. “Americans aren’t really popular here... especially since an American just killed their head of state. Also, try not to extend the staff unless you absolutely have to because it is not easy to collapse again.”

Madeline put the collapsed staff in her belt under her jacket and walked to a window of the building. Outside was a completely unfamiliar landscape. She was thousands of miles from home with no one to help her. She could feel panic start to creep into her.

“Hey!” shouted a voice in Madeline’s ear. She immediately clutched it, and the voice said, “I think I got the radio working.” Madeline turned to see Harvey grinning stupidly at her while holding up one of the radios.

“Cool,” Madeline said as she walked back over to Harvey. “But we’re in talking distance.”

“Yeah, but if something happened and we got split up, we’ll be able to communicate,” Harvey said.

Madeline shuddered at the thought. “Let’s not split up. We need to get out of this country as quickly as possible.” A thought struck Madeline. “I have exams Monday!”

“I still can’t seem to get anyone else on this radio, though,” Harvey stated.

“My watch!” Madeline exclaimed and held up the watch on her wrist. “It’s supposed to be a secret communicator watch.” She looked at it, but it didn’t seem to have any buttons. It just displayed the time, and Madeline wasn’t sure that it had been adjusted for the time zone changes in going to Makovia.

“Maybe it’s a one-way device for Armored Justice to contact us,” Harvey suggested. “I wonder what happened to him and the others.”

The panic gripped Madeline again as she thought of all the gunfire at the military base. “We could be all that’s left. How do we get out of here?” Madeline looked down at her flak jacket and fatigues which she guessed would make her stand out.

Some gray clothing was plopped down in front of Madeline. “I got us a change of clothes,” Harvey said. “Very drab and Eastern European. Should help us blend in.”

“How’d you get that?”

“Stole it!”

“From who?”

Harvey shrugged. “Not sure. Saw it drying on some clothesline. I feel a little bad about it, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve done.” He chuckled, though there was a nervous edge to it. “I was in a war — a really violent one.”

Madeline looked down at the clothes and then up at Harvey smiling at her. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I’ll... uh... go outside and keep watch for a few minutes.”

The clothes were even itchier than the fatigues, but Madeline just hoped she and Harvey didn’t stand out in them. They appeared to be in a small town and tried to walk nonchalantly.

“Just try and not look American,” Harvey warned her.

“You probably shouldn’t smile so much, then,” Madeline said.

With a little effort, Harvey got rid of the goofy smile he usually had. A few people were on the street, but no one seemed to pay any attention to them. They heard some commotion, though, and looked over to see people entering a nearby building that looked like a café or something. Harvey motioned to go closer to check it out, and Madeline followed him. In the building, they could see everyone gathered around a TV hanging from the ceiling. On it appeared to be a news program with a picture of Baron Strytle. Madeline couldn’t recognize the language, but the news seemed to be announcing Strytle’s death.

There was now video on screen. It was security camera footage of Madeline deflecting bullets back at Strytle. In the foreign words spoken over the video, she heard “Madeline Larson.”

“They know my secret identity,” Madeline gasped to Harvey. He did not need a reminder not to smile now.

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<PREV

Madeline was at a table with a group of dangerous, rogue superheroes about to get a mission briefing on actually helping people. She realized she had a big, goofy smile and quickly adopted a more serious expression. She looked at Harvey seated next to her, but he seemed to be staring at Fatale.

“As you can see, we have two new people here I’ve recruited for the Vindicators,” Armored Justice stated, who sat at the head of the table. He motioned to Harvey. “This is Jingo, a World War II-era superhero with lots of combat experience.”

Harvey looked at everyone else at the table and waved. “I punched out Hitler. Not a racist... like you may have heard.”

“Also, we have a new superhero who I believe has a lot of potential,” Armored Justice said, motioning to Madeline.

Madeline smiled but tried to make it a confident smile and not a goofy one. “Hi, guys. It’s great to be here among so many ready to do good in the world.”

“So what’s this?” asked the Grasshopper. “Are we adding a cheerleading squad?”

Madeline politely laughed at the insulting joke (though she found it slightly flattering he thought she looked like she could be a cheerleader). “Very funny, but I have superpowers. You see, one day—”

“Doesn’t matter that you have superpowers,” said the Executor. His accent wasn’t Texan. “You put a gun in the hand of a teenage girl, that doesn’t suddenly make her a Navy SEAL.”

“I think she can be of help to us,” Armored Justice said. “Her force fields will be a great asset in the area of defense.”

“Yeah, we saw the YouTube video of how Pink Princess defended herself from that cat,” said the Grasshopper with a chuckle.

The Honey Badger shot out the claws on his hands. “Violence against animals isn’t funny!”

Madeline put up her hands defensively. “Sorry, I panicked. But I really want to work at being a superhero — a real one who helps people... and has a better superhero name.”

“And this mission will be your opportunity,” Armored Justice said. In the center of the table appeared a hologram of a map of Mokovia. A red dot appeared on it, and the hologram zoomed in until it showed the aerial view of a town. “This is the Mokovian village of Lambovo. Baron Strytle has declared the inhabitants to be rebels, and the village is under siege. No one — no other government — is helping them, and they are on their own. Our mission is to bring them food and needed medical supplies. This should be a simple mission to start with, but resistance from the Mokovian military is possible.”

Madeline raised her hand. Armored Justice nodded at her, and she asked her question. “So, if the military does attack, what do we do?”

“You fight them.”

Madeline suppressed a shudder. Fighting people with assault rifles — this was serious.

When the briefing ended, Madeline decided it was a good time to chat with the other rogue superheroes and learn their story. Harvey had immediately started talking to Executor to learn more about modern guns, so Madeline approached Fatale, who was in the breakroom getting a cup of coffee.

“It’s always good to know other woman superheroes,” Madeline said. “I was wondering if you had any tips about working on my fighting skills?”

Fatale assessed Madeline with a neutral expression and then asked with a faint Russian accent, “Is this supposed to be some sort of female bonding, Rainbow Brite?”

Madeline was a little taken aback by the immediate hostility and stammered, “I just thought since we might be working together, we could—”

There was a sharp pain in Madeline’s cheek as her head was jerked to the side, dizzying her to the point she barely kept standing. It took her a moment to realize what had just happened: Fatale had punched her! Madeline had never been punched in the face before, and it really stung. “Why did you—”

“Are you going to cry, little girl?” Fatale sipped her coffee and looked disinterested.

“No, I...” Madeline could feel herself tearing up, but she soon got a hold of herself and stood up straight, resisting the urge to clutch her surely bruising face. “Not crying. I’m tough,” she stated firmly. “Are we friends now?”

“No,” Fatale uttered and left the breakroom. When she was gone, Madeline couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. That really hurt, and she didn’t know my Fatale had to be so mean!

“Modern guns are really nifty,” Harvey said as he entered the breakroom. “Ever use an M60, Madeline?” Madeline wasn’t able to stop crying fast enough, and Harvey quickly noticed something was wrong. “What happened?” He looked over her face. “Did someone punch you?! I’ll pulverize whoever did it.”

“It was Fatale,” Madeline blurted, quickly wondering if she should have kept her mouth shut.

Harvey was instantly taken aback. “Oh. Well... I’m not going to punch a woman.” He thought about it. “No, that’s sexist. If I was going to punch a man, then I need to punch a woman. You wait here.” Harvey took a deep breath and marched out of the breakroom. Madeline became worried about what would happen if they started a fight with rogue superheroes, but Harvey was back almost immediately. “I couldn’t do it,” he said. “She’s too pretty. I want to be a feminist, but I don’t know if I can hit women. At least not in the face. Maybe I could hit her in the gut.” An awful thought struck him. “But what if there’s a baby in there!”

“Stop talking to me!” Madeline blurted out, but she realized she wasn’t angry at Harvey. She wanted to be a superhero — a real one, but no one seemed to take her seriously.

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Harvey said apologetically. “I might do this — it could be a good way for me to get back in the hero business — but I’m not sure about you joining the Vindicators.”

“Why not?” Madeline demanded.

“Well, it seems really dangerous,” Harvey said, “and I’m not sure...” He could tell he was just making Madeline angrier. “And we don’t even really know who this Armored Justice is,” Harvey stated, trying a different tack. “This whole thing could get you in big trouble. I mean, it could really mess up your plans to become a dental hygienist.”

“A dentist, Harvey!” Madeline yelled louder than she meant. She was tired of this. She had superpowers; she was meant to do something with them. She was meant to help people. But no one thought she was capable.

Except for one person.

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<PREV

Madeline rechecked the address. She seemed to have it right (according to Google Maps), but all she saw in front of her was an abandoned warehouse — like from the movies. Nothing good ever came of an abandoned warehouse. And now the sun was setting, making the place even spookier.

She saw what looked like the entrance and cautiously crept toward it. As she reached for the door, a voice called out to her. “Hey, Madeline!”

Madeline turned to see Harvey and couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Did you send me the invitation?”

“No, I got one too!” Harvey held up a card similar to the one Madeline received. “Is getting secret invitations a common thing now? Is this like a Tinder thing? Snapchat? Twitter?”

“You’re just naming random internet things.”

“Pokemon?”

“Want to find out what this is about?” Madeline asked.

“Sure!” Harvey approached the door and opened it. Madeline then realized he was holding the door for her. She had kind of hoped he’d go in first.

Madeline walked inside with Harvey close behind her. It was dark in the warehouse, with the only thing Madeline could make out being some discarded pallets. Soon, though, she noticed a figure at the center of the room. And its eyes glowed.

Madeline immediately threw up a protective shield. This caught Harvey off guard, who walked into it and fell to the ground. He quickly scrambled to his feet. The figure approached them, and Madeline could see it looked like a massive metal figure — a robot. “Who are you?” Madeline demanded.

“I am Armored Justice,” said the figure.

“Are you one of them automatons?” Harvey asked.

“I am not a robot,” answered Armored Justice. “I am a person like you wishing to help in the fight against evil, and to that end, I made this armored suit. I know you have both been members of the Protectors, and I am guessing you have been disappointed by what you’ve been allowed to do.”

Harvey shrugged. “Eh, it was kind of fun. We don’t have Nazis to punch anymore.”

“The Protectors didn’t do much,” Madeline said. “We weren’t really there to fight evil.”

“That’s too bad because evil is out there,” Armored Justice stated. “And I am looking for heroes to help me fight supervillains.”

Madeline raised an eyebrow. “I was told there are no such things as supervillains.”

“That’s a lie,” Armored Justice said. “There are many evil people out there who openly wield vast amounts of power and often even dress flamboyantly just like from a comic book. They’re called dictators.”

Harvey nodded. “Oh, I’ve fought dictators before. I once punched out Hitler.”

Madeline was intrigued, but it also seemed worrisome. “You’re talking about going to other countries to fight their governments? Isn’t that against the law?”

“If the rules say we can’t help people in need,” Armored Justice stated, “then we ignore those rules.”

Madeline’s eyes grew wide. “Rogue superheroes!”

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<PREV

Madeline beckoned the mysterious young man to follow her to the better privacy of a nearby stairwell. “Who are you? And how do you know who I am?” she asked as soon as no one else could hear.

“Those domino masks don’t conceal identities as much as people think,” the man explained. “Also, I used to be in the Protectors, and I still have some contacts there — they told me how a new hero was going to my college.”

“You were a member of the Protectors?”

“Yeah, my name is Harvey Miller, but my superhero name used to be Jingo. I was America’s most popular superhero during World War II — an experimental super-soldier and the world’s best Nazi smasher. Until I mysteriously disappeared...”

Harvey jumped into the center of the Nazi lab, wearing his patriotic red, white, and blue uniform. He was surrounded by Nazi soldiers, and at the far end of the lab was a Nazi in a white lab coat. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” Harvey said, “but it looks foreign... and that’s something I just won’t stand!”

With a snap, Harvey extended his metal staff that had an American flag flowing from one end of it. He then came at the Nazi soldiers, pummelling them with his American flag staff. They were no match for his speed and super strength, and soon all that was left was the Nazi scientist. Harvey turned his attention to the odd machinery the scientist was working on. “What’s the heck is this?”

“An idiot like you couldn’t possibly understand,” said the scientist in his evil German accent.

Harvey narrowed his eyes. “As an American, there’s one thing I do when I don’t understand something... DESTROY IT!”

Harvey smashed the machinery with his staff as the scientist cried for him to stop. Sparks flew from the machine, and then some strange shimmering portal opened up and sucked Harvey in.

“Ends up it was a time machine,” Harvey explained to Madeline, “and it brought me to this year. Luckily the Protectors found me and added me to their team.”

A realization struck Madeline. “Oh, I remember why you got suspended.”

Harvey turned red. “You see, a lot of words that were considered the PC terms in my day are now considered offensive. For instance, back in my day, I called black people—”

“Stop,” Madeline interrupted. “I don’t like where this conversation is going.”

“Fair enough. The point is, I’m not a bad guy. Back when I was in the war, I made it a point to treat colored people—”

Madeline shook her head. “No.”

Harvey thought for a second. “...to treat minorities the same as anyone else. I’m not a bigot. I literally punched Hitler in the face.”

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<PREV

Madeline put her fists on her hips and stood in her superhero pose. Her pink cape flapped behind her.

“There are a lot of superpowers out there, but remember that the greatest ability is... responsibility!”

The children in the classroom were staring at her wide-eyed. They couldn’t believe they had a real-life superhero visiting him. Madeline tried to feed off that energy and enjoy what she was doing (though the fan Faulkner was operating to make her cape flap seemed a little much).

Here was Madeline’s big finale. She made a spherical forcefield in front of her and then bent in one part to try to make it a heart shape. She didn’t quite succeed, but it at least looked less like a butt than previous attempts. “That’s supposed to be a heart,” she felt compelled to add.

The marketing team had decided to start things small for the Pink Princess, having her visit some schools in underprivileged neighborhoods. This was Madeline’s third school, and it seemed to be going well. All the children looked very impressed by her and her powers, even though she didn’t even have any good made-up stories about her heroics yet. When her little speech was done, all the children wanted pictures with her. One little girl was even wearing an official Pink Princess costume.

“Oh, how adorable,” Madeline exclaimed upon seeing her, but then muttered to herself, “and it looks more appropriate on a seven-year-old.”

After the event, she headed out back with Faulkner, her handler from marketing, to where Faulkner’s car was, a BMW as pristine as Faulkner’s outfit. This area was the inner city — the scary place Madeline had always heard about. The buildings were so close to each other with graffiti and trash in alleyways.

“What do you mean their wifi isn’t working!” Madeline could hear Faulkner shouting on the phone. “We can operate without wifi! We’re not prepared for third-world-country conditions!” Faulkner hung up and turned to Madeline. “I have to fix things for our next venue. You just wait here. It’s a bad neighborhood, so don’t wander around.”

“If something happens, hopefully, someone will come to my rescue,” Madeline said sardonically, but Faulkner was already heading back inside the school.

Madeline looked again at the neglected buildings around her. This really was a place that could use a hero — to have someone around who showed she cared. But Madeline looked down at her spotless, pink costume and knew how ridiculous she must look against the grit of the city.

There was a loud bang. A gunshot! And a yell. Someone was in trouble!

Madeline froze. This was it. A time for real heroics. And she was terrified.

Are you a hero or not, Madeline? she asked herself.

Madeline did her best to steel herself and get her feet moving in the direction of the gunfire. She had powers. This was her duty.

And she had imagined this scenario so many times in her head after she got her powers. First, she needed to find a side alley to change into her costume. But she again looked down at her pink outfit and realized she already was in costume — though she still wished she had a different one to change into.

Next, she needed to rush into the scene and announce herself. She soon reached an area behind some buildings where she saw a half-dozen of what looked like gang members pointing guns at each other. She didn’t want to stereotype, but they did have rather gang member-like outfits. Plus, there were the guns.

And the sight of the guns reminded Madeline of the real danger here, and she put up a pink forcefield around her without even thinking. This got the attention of the gang members, one asking, “Who the hell are you?”

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<PREV

“And here is the new member of the Protectors,” said the news anchor. And there on screen was Madeline in her pink superhero outfit (and now matching pink lipstick), smiling as genuinely as she had managed. “And her name is... the Pink Princess.”

Madeline turned from the TV to see the reactions of the other superheroes, and they were all laughing except for the Cowl — who never seemed to crack a smile — and the Quickener, who seemed to successfully suppress a laugh. “Well, that’s a name people will remember,” he told her.

“She looks like a plush doll!” said the Amazonian, leading her to another round of laughter.

Splash held up a box. “Actually, they’re making her a Barbie doll.”

Madeline looked at the box, which had a plastic doll in her superhero outfit. “That is so flattering, infuriating, and adorable at the same time.” It was getting hard to keep her spirits up, but Madeline realized at least Fly-Over — the best superhero — wasn’t laughing at her. That’s because he wasn’t there as he was dealing with an earthquake or something. “So when will I be joining you all on your next mission?” she asked the others.

Sonicgirl burst out laughing again. “Yeah, we’ll bring you along when we battle the huggy bears in Rainbowland.”

Madeline smiled as if she thought the joke was funny too and then walked off, just needing to get away from everyone else. She found a couch in the corner of the common area and sat down. She had the urge to cry, but she fought it because she was a superhero. Or at least she thought she was. Despite her best efforts, she certainly didn’t feel like one.

A gravelly voice asked, “Is something wrong?”

Madeline turned to see the Cowl standing in the shadows near the couch. “I’m just not sure about my superhero name,” Madeline answered carefully. “I get the ‘Pink’ part as my powers are pink — though not my choice of color, and I don’t see the need to draw attention to it. I’m not so sure about the “Princess” part as that doesn’t really imply any superhero powers but more of an association with a monarchy — which isn’t accurate.”

The Cowl nodded. “And what kind of name would you want?”

“One that could intimidate evildoers,” Madeline said, getting more emphatic. “No criminal is going to shout, ‘Oh no! Here comes Pink Princess!’”

Again, the Cowl nodded. “And you think you’re going to be fighting evildoers?”

Madeline was confused by the question. “Well, I’m a superhero.”

The Cowl held up his palm facing Madeline. “I want you to throw a punch.”

Madeline stood up and considered the Cowl’s hand for a moment. She came at it with an overhead swing that bounced off it ineffectively.

The Cowl raised an eyebrow. “When did you last throw a punch? When you were three?”

“Hitters don’t make friends,” Madeline said weakly.

Madeline noticed a change in the Cowl’s countenance. His permanent scowl was gone and when he spoke again, the gravelliness was gone and replaced with a normal, friendly tone. “What are you doing here, Maddie?”

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<PREV

Madeline looked again at all the people in suits (one again, Drayton and Faulkner were seated at the front). She still wasn’t quite sure who all these people were other than that they seemed important.

“It is our job to make sure you will be ready to go out in public as a superhero,” Drayton said. She could almost feel the critical nature of his eyes.

“I’ll do whatever I need to,” Madeline said.

“We need to work on her voice,” Faulkner told Drayton. “It’s a bit squeaky.” Again, Faulkner was in such an immaculate, fashionable dress suit that it made Madeline feel underdressed.

“We’ll do some speech classes for her,” Drayton responded. “Let’s first focus on seeing the full extent of her powers.”

“I’d love to show you that,” Madeline said, trying to keep her voice a bit deeper. “I really feel like it’s my calling to figure out how to use these powers to help people. It’s like the parable Jesus told about the talents—”

Faulkner sighed loudly. “Oh no. Did we get another religious one?”

“Sorry?” Madeline said, perplexed.

Drayton frowned. “We had problems with Fly-Over in the past.”

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<PREV

Madeline couldn’t help but beam as she walked around her college campus. It was like all her dreams were coming true at once. Here she was now at her first day of college — living on her own for the first time — but she could hardly pay attention to that knowing what else she had going on beyond it.

“What’s up with you?” asked one girl sitting next to Madeline who noticed how Madeline was grinning stupidly while waiting for a lecture to start.

“Nothing,” Madeline answered with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m just a mild-mannered college student.”

“You’re weird.”

Madeline couldn’t do anything but nod to that. She was weird — but in an awesome way. Because while by day she was a college student, by... well, later in the day (their office closed at six), she would train to be a superhero.

And as soon as Madeline’s initial day of classes was over, she took the subway to the Protector’s headquarters — her new headquarters. Finally, it was time for her to meet the other superheroes — her teammates. Her allies in her crusade for truth and justice. When she entered the Protector’s headquarters, she marched right up to the woman at the desk by the elevators.

“Hello, Deskwoman, it’s me: the yet-to-be-named superhero. I guess we should get to know each other.”

“Should we?”

Deskwoman pointed to the elevators. Madeline tried one more polite smile (which was ignored) and got into one of the elevators. This time, it took her all the way to the top of the tower. When it opened, she was in a spacious room with high glass ceilings. About her was training equipment and couches and a kitchen — this was the superhero hangout. And before her, there were all the superheroes she knew, all either training or lounging about. She thought she should walk up and introduce herself, but as she was trying to find the will to do so, a yellow blur shot toward her. The blur stopped, and in front of her was a senior man in a yellow suit with a yellow helmet.

“You must be the new girl,” he said, “I’m—”

“The Quickener!” Madeline squealed. “That fastest man alive!”

He grinned sheepishly. “Well, I was back in the 70s and 80s, but I’ve slowed a bit since then. Still faster than most bullets, though.”

“I’ve read all about your exploits,” Madeline said. “All that crime you fought back in the 70s — that sounded like a pretty gritty time. And then they say you ran circles around the Viet Cong... not enough to win the war, but wow.”

He frowned a bit. “Yeah, I don’t really talk much about that time.” He brought back his smile. “But why don’t I show you around and introduce you to the others.”

The Quickener led her on, walking at a more normal speed (though still a bit fast for a man in his 70s). He led her to a very tall woman pummeling a punching bag that looked to barely be holding together against her inhuman strength. She paused her punching to turn and face Madeline and the Quickener.

“This is the Amazonian,” the Quickener told Madeline.

Madeline smiled at her. “Hi, I’m Madeline, the new superhero. It’s great to meet a fellow woman crime fighter. I hope we can—”

“You are puny,” the Amazonian uttered and returned to hitting the punching bag.

Madeline nodded and said to the Amazonian’s back, “Criticism noted.”

“She’s not really a people person,” the Quickener whispered.

The Quickener led Madeline to the one shadowy corner of the room where lurked a man in a dark mask and cape.

“The Cowl!” Madeline exclaimed. “I’ve never really understood what your superpower is.”

“Resolve,” answered the Cowl in a gravelly voice like jagged rocks. “I know what evil is out there, so I train every single day so that I—”

“Do you have a cold?” Madeline asked.

“No.”

“Why do you talk like that?” Madeline thought for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry; was your throat injured fighting bad guys?”

The Cowl seemed a little flustered. “No, it’s just... it’s just my superhero voice. It’s to help hide my identity.”

“Does that work?”

The Cowl hesitated for a moment. “No.”

“A lot of people seem to think you’re billionaire Max Stratton,” Madeline said.

The Cowl moved even further into the shadows. “Well... I can’t comment on that.”

Madeline smiled and waved goodbye to him as she walked off with the Quickener. When she was out of earshot, she asked him, “So he’s just a billionaire you let hang out here?”

“In fairness, being a billionaire is a sort of superpower,” the Quickener answered. “He does help with a lot of the funding for this place. And he has a bit of a sad story: He’s worked on being a superhero ever since a robber killed his parents.”

Madeline frowned. “Oh. Poor guy. Even being a billionaire doesn’t make up for losing your family.”

The Quickener shrugged. “Considers the family.”

The Quickener then led Madeline to a middle-aged woman in blue spandex (that wasn’t particularly flattering for her). She was sitting on a couch watching a soap opera, but she paused the show and stood up when Madeline approached.

“Sonicgirl!” Madeline exclaimed.

“New girl,” Sonicgirl answered with a neutral expression.

“I always wondered: Were you a big fan of Sonicman, and that’s why you took the name?”

Sonicgirl frowned. “I was first! He took the name from me!”

“Well, why do you call yourself Sonicgirl?” Madeline asked. “You have to be at least for—” Madeline noticed Sonicgirl scowling and realized she had made a big mistake but only had room for a little course correction. “...older than a teenager.”

“Nice to meet you, whoever you are,” Sonicgirl said, then sat back on the couch and resumed her show.

The Quickened led her a few steps away from Sonicgirl. “We don’t get new members very often, so it will probably take a little time to fit in. But I think we could use some new blood.”

Madeline grinned sheepishly and saw a man in a light-blue, aquatic-themed outfit. “I want to meet the new girl!” he said.

The Quickener sighed a little. “Madeline, this is Splash.”

“Ocean Commander,” Splash corrected him.

“No one is calling you that,” the Quickener said and turned back to Madeline. “Anyway, he can breathe underwater and swim fast and has fish friends... so he’s sort of like a superhero.”

“I command aquatic creatures!” Splash retorted. “I know some people think I’m a joke, but two-thirds of the world is covered in sea, and that is my domain.”

Madeline was careful this time not to offend any more of the Protectors. She took a very polite tone and said, “That’s great. You sound very important.”

The Quickener leaned over to her and whispered, “You don’t have to talk to him.”

Madeline heard a sound above her. A skylight above her was opening. Through it flew something at a tremendous speed that landed right in front of Madeline, startling her. It took Madeline a moment to process what had happened, but then she recognized that standing in front of her in his blue and orange suit was Fly-Over, the most powerful superhero of all time. He smiled at her warmly. “You must be the new hero, Madeline Larson.”

Madeline could hardly believe he knew her name. But then reality hit her again: She was a member of the Protectors, so he was her teammate. “Th... thanks, Fly-Over,” she stammered.

“Thank you for stepping up and joining our team.”

Madeline struggled for something else to say. “It’s so great to meet you in person. I saw how you once lifted a whole sinking oil tanker out of the sea.”

“Yeah, it broke apart,” Fly-Over admitted. “Those things aren’t meant to fly.”

“Stil, strength-wise, super impressive.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do things just as impressive.”

“I doubt it. I’ll do what I can, but you are just powerful beyond belief.”

Fly-Over chuckled. “Yes,  I know it seems like my impressive superpowers basically render the rest of the superheroes here pointless, but there’s one thing I can’t do by myself: teamwork. Now, I must try to stop a volcano from erupting.”

“Oh! Can I do anything to help?” Madeline asked, trying to hide her nervousness.

Fly-Over shook his head. “No, it’s far too dangerous. Everyone else just stay here.” Fly-Over then rocketed up in a blue blur, almost knocking Madeline over with the draft from his sudden movement.

“Even I can’t keep up with him,” the Quickener said, a little melancholy visible on his face.

“Is he really a space alien?” Madeline asked.

“Yes, but he’s a pretty normal guy,” the Quickener explained, “as some family raised him in the midwest. Well, he’s a bit right-wing. In fact, don’t bring up gun control around him unless you have time to listen to a long rant.”

Madeline looked around the room at the other superheroes, who seemed to be no longer paying attention to her. “So, who am I training with?”

“Well, none of us here,” the Quickener said and then checked his watch. “Actually, yeah it’s about time. There is a special group waiting for you.” He led Madeline to the elevators and rode down a few floors with her. When the elevator stopped, they got out, and he led her to a room where once again, were all the men and women in suits she had met before. “Good luck,” the Quickener told Madeline before speeding off.

NEXT>

Madeline stared up at the Protector’s headquarters, a beautiful tower of glass and steel in the heart of the city.

“Should we get a picture of you standing in front of it?” Madeline’s mother asked.

Madeline turned to see her father, mother, and sister all sitting in the silver Toyota Camry behind her. “Let’s see how this goes first,” Madeline said, smiling and trying to hide her nerves.

“I wish we could go with you,” Stacy said.

“This place is only for superheroes, I guess,” said her mom. “Like little Maddie.”

“Just make sure they give you a flak jacket until they figure out if you’re bulletproof,” her father stated.

“And pants,” her mom added. “I’ve seen some of the outfits the women superheroes wear, and they look like strippers.”

Her dad nodded. “Your mom’s right. You don’t want to fight evil without pants.”

“I have to get accepted into the superhero league; then I’ll make sure they give me pants,” Madeline said.

“Okay, well, good luck, honey,” her mom stated. “We’ll see you afterward and then head to your college campus. I know you’ll make a great superhero.”

“Thanks. And remember not to put any of this on Facebook,” Madeline said. “I’m trying to keep up my secret identity.”

Her mom nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Destroy evil, Madeline!” Stacy called to her. Madeline gave them one last nervous smile and headed into the building.

When Madeline first entered, she stood for a moment in awe of the spacious lobby, sunlight shining in from the wall of glass behind her that was more than forty feet high. Banners hung down the sides depicting the heroes of the Protectors, and in the center of the room was a large television showing videos of their exploits. On it currently was the powerful Fly-Over in his blue and orange suit flying up into the sky.

“NASA had learned that an asteroid was coming near Earth and would only miss impacting our planet by a few hundred thousand miles,” said the announcer. There was video of Fly-Over pushing the giant asteroid, barely straining as he did. “But thanks to the intervention of Fly-Over and his immense strength, the asteroid missed up by even more miles.”

“Can I help you?”

Madeline had been so focused on staring up at everything in the room that she missed a woman sitting behind a desk near the elevators. Madeline walked over to her. “Oh, Hi! I’m Madeline Larson. I had sent in a video of my superpowers and was told to come here for a tryout. Are you a superhero?”

“Yes, I’m Deskwoman,” the woman replied, laying on the sarcasm heavily. Madeline's father had warned her that in the big city, people loved sarcasm. “Head into the elevator,” she continued. “It will take you where you need to go, and someone will meet you there.”

“Thanks. You’ve saved the day, Deskwoman,” Madeline said with a smile, trying to play off the woman’s earlier joke. She didn’t even give the slightest smile back, though. Madeline’s father had also warned her that people in the big city could be mean.

Madeline entered the elevator, and it took her to floor seventeen. When the doors opened, in front of her stood two people: a middle-aged man in a suit and a younger woman also in a suit who was sophisticated in a way Madeline found immediately intimidating. “Hello, Madeline. I’m Ernest Drayton, and this is my colleague Vera Faulkner. Please follow us.”

Madeline nodded and followed Drayton and Faulkner through the hallway. This area looked like regular offices, and Madeline soon came to a conference room where half a dozen other men and women in suits waited. Drayton and Faulkner led her to the front of the room and then took seats with the others who were all now facing her.

“Thank you for coming here, Madeline,” Drayton said. “So it is our understanding you have forcefield powers.”

Madeline looked at all the people in suits cautiously. “Yes, I can make forcefield which I can use for both defense and offense,” Madeline told them. “I think it’s a very versatile power.”

“Can you make shapes with them?” asked Faulkner.

“Basic shapes like a sphere,” Madeline answered. She looked over the people in front of her again, all in suits. “So, are you government agents?”

“We make a lot of the decisions for the Protectors,” Drayton explained. “Do you think you could make more advanced shapes if you try?”

“Maybe, I haven’t really tried,” Madeline said. “I just do like flat surfaces and maybe a sphere for blocking things.” Madeline made a pink sphere that floated in front of her. “Occasionally, I do a longer shape like a stick for hitting.”

Most of the people there didn’t even seem to be paying attention to her but were chatting with each other. She was starting to get worried she was already failing the tryout though it felt like she had barely done anything.

“I mean, there is a lot I can do with these powers, like—”

“Do you want to try making a more advanced shape?” Faulkner interrupted her.

Madeline did her best confident smile. “Sure!”

“How about a heart.”

“Yeah, I think I can,” Madeline said, trying to hide her uncertainty.

Madeline started by making a sphere. She then used her will to make one part of the sphere longer while trying to fold in the opposite part to make it like the top of the heart. The result ended up looking more like a butt, though. “Yeah, I hadn’t really tried shapes a lot yet,” Madeline said and looked up to see that again, most of the people were scribbling notes and not even paying attention to her. “So, do you want me to share some battle strategies I’ve come up with to fight supervillains using my powers?”

A few of the people in suits snickered at that. “That won’t be necessary,” answered Drayton.

It almost felt like a gut blow. Madeline could tell she had lost them, and they weren’t taking her seriously. Her one chance, and it was already over. She could feel tears well, but she fought them back. She was a superhero! She kept her voice from cracking and said steadily, “I know I’m probably not the most imposing superhero -- and to be honest, this whole thing scares me a little — but I feel like since I was blessed with these powers, I need to use them to help people — whatever danger may come. I will do whatever it takes and undergo whatever training I need to so that—”

“That’s enough, Madeline,” Drayton interrupted. “We’ve seen what we needed to.”

The tears were coming again, and Madeline summoned even more will than she used to levitate to hold them back. “Just give me a chance, and—”

Faulkner plopped a stack of papers on the table in front of Madeline. Madeline looked at them with confusion. “What’s this?”

“These contain the details of your package compensation and your contractual obligations. There are also several waivers you’ll need to sign right away.”

It took a few seconds for Madeline to process this. “Wait... does this mean you’re making me one of the Protectors?”

Drayton smiled at her. “Yes, welcome aboard, Madeline.”

“I’m a superhero!” Madeline let out a cry of victory but quickly realized it was too much like a girlish squeal and tried to make it a bit heartier. “I have a few ideas for my superhero name, by the way. I was thinking like ‘The Sentinel’ or ‘The Guardian.’”

“Those names are already taken,” Drayton informed her, “but we’ll come up with a good one for you.”

“And I had some thoughts on my costume,” Madeline said. “Since my powers are pink, I’m a little afraid of coming off too girly and not intimidating enough to villains.”

“That’s definitely our department,” Faulkner said with a polite but fake smile.

Madeline nodded, realizing she still wasn’t exactly sure who these people were, but she would have plenty of time to learn everything now this place would be her superhero headquarters. The unbelievability of it all hit her again. Not only would she be meeting the other superheroes like Fly-Over, but she’d also be fighting alongside them. “Well, let’s get started.”

Faulkner handed Madeline a pen. “The forms.”

Madeline was back in the lobby of the Protectors headquarters, trying to keep it together. She thought about saying something to Deskwoman, but she wasn’t sure how much she knew about the inner working of the superheroes here, and now Madeline had an alter-ego to protect. So Madeline found an empty area in the lobby away from Deskwoman to call her family, dialing her dad as he was usually the first to pick up.

“I did it! I’m a superhero!” she squealed as soon as he answered the phone. She then looked at the forms. “What county was I born in?”

NEXT>

Here’s a new story I’m going to tell in parts. It’s an adaptation of a script I wrote, and I’m not sure how long it will be when it’s finished (it might end up more a novella than a short story). The first three parts will be available to everyone, and after that it will be for paid subscribers.

Enjoy!

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This was the most important video of Madeline’s life. Her eighteen years on this earth had led up to this. And that’s why Madeline was letting Stacy use her phone.

Stacy did not have a phone of her own. Part of that was that Stacy was eleven, and their parents wanted to protect Stacy from the dangers of social media and whatnot. The other reason was that Stacy was impulsive and not very responsible, which was why it was worrisome to have her in control of an expensive, breakable electronic device.

Still, someone had to film this. And while Madeline and Stacy — because of the age difference — didn’t tend to do very much together as sisters, this was something Stacy very much wanted to be a part of. She almost seemed as excited as Madeline.

“You have a good hold of that?” Madeline asked.

“I got it.”

They were in their backyard. Madeline took a glance to their sides to make sure the neighbors weren’t out in their yards. This was secret stuff. Madeline wondered if they should have gone someplace remote to film this, but she didn’t know a good remote place where she was sure no one else would come by. And at least here, she had a picket fence blocking the view.

“Make sure the shot is framed well,” Madeline said, playing with her hair. “Remember the rule of thirds.”

“It’ll be good,” Stacy said, her face hidden behind the phone. “Is that what you’re wearing for this?”

Madeline looked down at the jeans and plain lime-green shirt she was wearing. “Well, I don’t have a costume yet. I thought I’d just wear some clothes that don’t draw attention to themselves.”

“Okay, I’m ready when you are.” Stacy held the phone pointed at Madeline.

Madeline smiled at the camera and got ready. She then noticed her auburn hair down at her shoulders. “Do you think I’d look more serious with a ponytail?”

Stacy shrugged. “You might.”

Madeline pulled a pink scrunchie out of her pocket and quickly fixed her hair into a ponytail. She faced and smiled at the camera again. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Rolling.”

Madeline took a deep breath and one more moment to compose her thoughts before she started talking. “This is my audition video. My name is Madeline Larson, and...”

They were interrupted by barking. Their Jack Russell Terrier, Sparky, had run out to join them. Madeline had told her mom to keep him inside, but she apparently forgot, and now Sparky wanted to join in on whatever they were doing. He started jumping up against Madeline’s side.

“Sparky, no!” Madeline chided him, but he kept jumping. “We’re filming a video; you have to sit and be still.” But Sparky was not going to be still. He started jumping at Madeline harder, thinking that was the game. “Sparky!”

Madeline stuck her palm out at Sparky, and a glowing pink entity formed between her and the dog, like a forcefield. Sparky was confused when he struck the solid object between him and Madeline, tucked his tail between his legs as he backed away, and then ran off. Madeline felt a little bad scaring Sparky like that, but she remembered why she was out here and faced the camera and said, “As you can see, I have superpowers. And I am ready to join the Protectors. I am ready to be a superhero.”

Madeline stuck her fists to her hips, elbows out, doing her best superhero pose while smiling.

“Okay, I think that’s good,” Stacy said, lowering the phone.

“You don’t think we should do another take?” Madeline dropped from the superhero pose to a more relaxed one.

“No, that was neat with Sparky. If a dog is scared of you, maybe villains will be, too.”

“Okay, let’s set up for the next shot, then.” Madeline walked over to where in the yard they had a CPR dummy propped up against a tree. Madeline stood near it and got back in her superhero pose.

“Action!” Stacy called out.

“I am able to make force fields,” Madeline explained to the camera. “And I can turn those forcefields into objects I can manipulate.”

Madeline held out her right palm, and a pink forcefield formed in front of it. The forcefield then formed into a long cylinder resembling a bat. With a wave of her hand, the bat swung and hit the CPR dummy. It wobbled a bit and then fell over forward.

Madeline faced the camera again. “So, watch out, villains! I can also hit things at a pretty decent distance.”

Madeline walked a few feet away, and Stacy got her in frame along with a TV tray that had an empty Coke can on it that was about ten feet away from Madeline. Madeline began to concentrate, and the glowing pink bat began to whip around her.

Stacy shrieked as the bat collided with her, and she fell to the ground. The bat instantly disappeared, and Madeline ran over to her sister. “Are you okay?!”

Stacy began to pick herself off the ground. “I’m fine. I think it just startled me.”

Madeline waited a polite moment before asking the next question. “Is my phone okay?”

“It’s fine, and I got it all on video.”

“We should probably redo that.”

“No, I think this is better than hitting the can,” Stacy said. “Much scarier, and you need to convince them you can be intimidating.”

Madeline thought about that. “Maybe. I’ll think about it. Why don’t we just go ahead and film my special trick now.”

Stacy nodded, and Madeline stood out in the yard by herself while Stacy framed the shot. “And you’re sure you’re okay?” Madeline asked.

“Sure. It didn’t hit with very much force.”

Madeline grimaced a bit at that, but she got back in her superhero pose and smiled when Stacy called, “Action!”

“Now watch this,” Madeline stated.

Madeline held out her hands and made a spherical, pink forcefield that completely surrounded her. Then she put all her effort into moving it. It took all her will and strength and was almost painful, but she could feel the forcefield begin to lift her. She strained and strained, and soon she was hovering in her forcefield six inches off the ground. Finally, the effort was too much for her, and the forcefield disappeared. She fell to the ground, collapsing in a heap. She took a few seconds to catch her breath. And then a few more. Still panting, she got to her feet and got back in her superhero pose and smiled, though her face was now red and sweat was dripping down her forehead. “I can fly!” she triumphantly announced.

“Do you want another take on that one?” Stacy asked.

“No. That’s the best I’ve ever done it,” Madeline said. “Let’s get to showing my defense capabilities.”

Stacy set up the phone on a stand and picked up a tire iron. Madeline had wanted a crowbar, but their dad didn’t have one. He offered the tire iron from his car — and it did look fearsome — but he said he wanted it right back and not to bend it. Madeline didn’t think Stacy could swing it hard enough to bend it, which is why she wondered if she should have had someone more fearsome wield it, but again, Stacy really wanted to participate in this.

Stacy was ready with the tire iron and actually did look a bit scary if you looked right in her eyes. “The camera is recording?”

“It’s on. Let’s do this!”

Madeline put up a forcefield between her and Stacy, and Stacy immediately started whaling away at it with the tire iron. It was actually taking more will than Madeline thought to keep the shield going and deflect the blows. Eventually, Stacy seemed to tire herself out, and Madeline dissipated the forcefield and faced the camera.

“As you can see,” she said, “my forcefields protect me from attack. Thus I can—”

“I wonder if you’re bulletproof.”

Madeline’s parents were already a bit apprehensive about the whole superhero thing, so she simply told them they were heading out to get a few more things for the video when in fact, Madeline had looked up the nearest gun range. It was an indoor range simply called “Shooting World.” There was a  middle-aged man behind a glass counter filled with pistols, and more guns were hanging on the wall behind him. He eyed the two girls who entered a bit suspiciously — especially the phone Stacy was holding up to film everything.

“Hello, citizen,” Madeline said to the man as Stacy recorded the exchange.

The man took a few confused looks at both Madeline and Stacy and finally settled on replying, “Hey.”

“I have a request,” Madeline continued. “You see, I have superpowers.”

Madeline waved her hand, making one of her pink forcefields appear between her and the man. The man looked at it with interest — but not a particularly large amount of interest. “Okay.”

“I would like help in determining whether my forcefields can deflect bullets.”

The man furrowed his brow. “You want us to put you at the back at the range and have people shoot at you?”

Madeline shuddered. “No, no... I was hoping for a safer way to do this.”

The gun store owner thought about it. “What if your forcefields cause the bullets to ricochet? I don’t think my insurance would want anything to do with this.”

Madeline frowned. “How do you think superheroes normally find out if they’re bulletproof?”

The gun store owner shrugged. “I’m guessing they get shot at, and then they either is or ain’t... if you know what I mean. So, do you want to buy a gun?”

Madeline was surprised by the question. “Huh?”

“A gun,” he repeated. “Let’s say you can block bullets with your forcefields. What then? You need to shoot back. You need a gun.”

Madeline glanced at the camera and then faced the gun store owner again, placing her hands on her hips for her superhero pose. “Superheroes don’t use guns.”

The man scoffed. “That’s dumb.”

“You’re dumb!” Stacy shouted at him, causing the man to scowl at her.

Madeline carefully approached Stacy and whispered to her, “Don’t make him mad; he has lots of guns.”

“So, the full extent of my powers aren’t quite known. But I know I was given them for a reason, and that is why I want to join the Protectors and learn to use them to help others. And I’ll be attending college near your headquarters, so it will work out really well. You see, my long-term plan is to be a dentist as an alter-ego.” Madeline got in her superhero pose again. “So I hope you will consider me as an asset in helping you fight villainy.” A thought seemed to strike her. “Oh yeah: I forgot to tell you how I got these powers. It’s a pretty interesting story. Well, kinda. Anyway, one day I—”

Drayton paused the video and looked at the others in the conference. “Let’s bring her in.”

NEXT>

Note: Though I think technically this takes place after Hellbender 2, there are no spoilers in this story so you don’t have to have read the first two Hellbenders before reading it (though do buy and read Hellbender 1 and Hellbender 2).

My name is Lulu Liu.

If you’re reading this, you’ll soon be dead. Because you broke into my room and took my journal, and I’m going to garrote you with piano wire for that.

It was a typical day. Sun. Sky. Clouds. Birds chirping. You know — day stuff. But I didn’t see most of this day stuff because I was in my dark office, only a faint hint of sunlight peeking in through the thick blinds.

I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU, AND I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!

Okay, I probably wasn’t. But I could be. Seriously, if you broke in and started reading my journal, you’d better reconsider. This is all very personal and will reveal my innermost feelings. It’s going to be extremely juicy and extremely sensational, and you need to stop reading it right now.

Anyway, I don’t know why it was so dark in my office. I guess I had decided to be moody today. Because I’m now a private eye. And you never know what kind of case will come and drag you through the seedy underbelly of this city.

I contemplated lighting up a cigarette — just for the mood — and that’s when I saw her. The dame screamed trouble. She had legs like a goddess and wore a tight red dress that looked painted on, with a décolletage scandalously low, as if to scream to the world, “Hey, look at what I have right here!”

Wait. That was me. I was just seeing myself in the mirror. Damn, I’m sexy.

I spent a while admiring how irresistible I was in the mirror, hoping a client would come in soon, but I got bored. Maybe I should have advertised that I was opening a private investigation office, but I had only thought of it a few minutes ago. I kinda hoped desperate people would just walk in.

There was a knock at the door. Success.

“Come in,” I said, too lazy to open the door myself.

The door opened, and... Dang, it was just Floyd.

Floyd was... well... just imagine someone you would name “Floyd,” and you have a pretty good picture. His whole presence was irritating, and his pervy eyes kept staring down the front of my dress.

“Hey! I am very specifically making eye contact with you despite... what you’re wearing,” Floyd stammered. “Why are you wearing that?”

“Do I need to run it by you anytime I decide to wear a provocative cocktail dress, Floyd?” I shouted at him. “What do you want?”

“Something weird is going on,” he told me. “And the rest of Hellbender asked if I could find you. I did think I saw you walk into this abandoned office for some reason. Anyway, they want you to go talk to them.”

A case. The day was taking a turn. Who knew what the rest of the day held for me, but I had a sense that my trouble was only beginning.

“Okay, you’re weirding me out,” Floyd said. “I’m going to go now. The others are at your headquarters.”

Floyd shuffled off like a little weenie. So now I had a case: something weird going on. And if anyone knew weirdness, it was Lulu Liu.

I headed for the Hellbender headquarters. It was once a McDonald’s — a monument to capitalism filled with cheap burgers and screaming tots — but had since been abandoned. Now the windows were covered up, and it was home to the fearsome mercenary group Hellbender — of whom I was a member when I wasn’t pretending to be a detective.

No, fearsome mercenary group is overselling. Let’s call Hellbender an association of loveable miscreants. Or just miscreants. A bunch of miscreants.

The many warring factions in this world gave a lot of opportunities to people with no moral compunctions — even if, like us, they also had no skills. We had mainly just been doing work for the RALFS, though, which hadn’t been anything very interesting, because they’re a bunch of doofs.

Inside our headquarters, I immediately saw Doug — the dumb one. He looked frightened. In one hand was a sheathed katana as he peered over the empty counter. When he saw me, he eyed me suspiciously. “Hey, Lulu,” he called out. “Where have you been? You ran out last night during the movie. I mean, that was a really dumb part, and you’d already seen the best part — the fight between Batman and Superman — but you missed a cool Batman fight in a warehouse against a bunch of thugs, and where Wonder Woman helps them fight Doomsday.”

“I’m not interested in talking about that movie. Floyd mentioned there was something weird going on.”

“Yeah, something really weird,” Doug said. “So, first question: Are you doing some sort of haunting prank on us?”

I shook my head.

“Did you just say, ‘I shook my head’?” Doug asked. He stared at me. “And why are you wearing that dress, and why are you writing in that book?” His eyes grew wide with comprehension. “Oh no! You’re doing a bit, aren’t you?”

I ignored his prattle. “Why are you asking about hauntings?” I inquired. “Are you guys seeing ghosts or something?”

“Yeah, something bizarre is happening, so can you stop doing whatever it is you’re doing? Around town, people have been seeing something like ghosts. I saw one here just before you came.”

“Can you describe it? I need all the details.”

“Sure. Well it was...” He paused for a moment. “So are you doing, like, a detective thing, Lulu? That’s fine for this, but could you cut out whatever it is you’re doing with that book?”

“Just tell me what you saw, Mr. N slash A.”

“Don’t call me that. I heard a noise — something falling over. And I thought I saw a person... but then it was gone. Like disappeared.”

I nodded thoughtfully. I had assumed my genre was noir, but it looked like my story was turning into more of an urban fantasy.

“What’s an urban fantasy?” Doug asked. “And for the record, your nod didn’t look very thoughtful.”

I noticed something. There was a china tea set on the counter with what looked like a doll next to it. The tea set had been Charlene’s latest thing, but the doll was new. The little thing was mainly canvas and hair made out of yarn. “Maybe the creepy doll is causing the haunting.”

Doug shrugged. “Eh. I’ve seen creepier.”

A dandy ponce in a powder-blue suit walked into the room — Bryce Worthington, another member of Hellbender. All the color was drained from his face as if he had seen something that had chilled him to the bone.

“Oh, Lulu’s back,” Bryce said, “and what did she just say about me being chilled or something?”

“I’m just going to warn you, Bryce,” Doug said. “Lulu is doing a bit. Some sort of detective thing with a journal. I’m not sure she will be a lot of help today.”

“Yeah, and did I hear her say something about a ‘dandy ponce’?”

“She’s, like, muttering out loud whatever she’s writing in there,” Doug explained. “It’s super annoying.”

“I want to know about these ghosts people are seeing,” I told them. “I need the details. Where did this start?”

“It was Annette and Steve who first saw it,” Bryce said.

“But you probably should drop this bit you’re doing if you want to go talk to them,” Doug added.

I gave Doug an annoyed look.

“You didn’t even look at me,” Doug protested. “You just said that you gave me an annoyed look while writing in that book.”

I again gave Doug an annoyed look.

“Okay, that time she did look at you, and she did appear annoyed,” said Bryce with a foppish sigh. “What the hell is a ‘foppish sigh’?” Bryce added. “Is she implying something about me?”

Just then, a young, ugly boy walked in. No, wait, it was Charlene.

“What did she just say?” Charlene demanded in her squeaky voice.

“She’s doing a bit,” Doug explained, his brain working overtime at basic comprehension. “I’d just ignore her for now. We’ll have to figure out what’s going on without her.”

“Where have you been?” Charlene asked, staring at me with her plain face. “And is that my journal?”

“I’m keeping records of my investigation,” I told Charlene as I backed away.

“Hey! Watch out for my hot brew set!” she yelled.

I turned and saw that I had almost bumped into her tea set.

“Be careful with that,” she told me.

“And what do you need it for?” I asked.

“As I’ve explained to you, it’s for doing a special ceremony with a hot brew. It helps one focus before battle.”

“And the doll?” I asked.

“That’s an icon representing warriors of the past,” Charlene stated.

That was just like Charlene to have tea with a dolly and pretend it’s some warrior thing. She was constantly repressing her femininity. Then again, she could never pull off a dress like I was wearing.

“I’m not repressing my femininity!” Charlene shouted. “And I would never wear a slutty dress like that because I have self-respect!”

I rolled my eyes.

“No, you didn’t!”

Doug stepped between Charlene and me. “I know Lulu is being really annoying with her bit, but we have to handle this ghost thing. So why don’t we three stay here and see if we can find that ghost again, and Lulu can go see if she can find anything out from Steve and Annette and maybe be done with her bit when we see her next.”

“Or we could end her bit now by making her give me back my journal,” suggested Charlene, the gaze from her homely face locking on me.

“Is it really important?” Bryce asked. “If you try to get it back, it’s just going to be even more of a thing. Better to just stay away from her until she becomes bored with this.”

“And I wonder if this has to do with the movie we watched last night,” Doug added. “Maybe something about it upset her.”

“It was a terrible movie,” Charlene said. “A big, bloated mess.”

“I just couldn’t imagine that anyone could screw up a movie about Batman fighting Superman,” Doug countered. “And I thought it was neat, because Batman and Superman are both orphans like us.” He turned to me. “So why did you leave? Did that have anything to do with why you’re doing this bit now?”

“Who cares?” Charlene said. “I’m done coddling her. It’s time to treat her like an adult and demand she hand over that journal, which is mine, or face the consequences,” further added the miserable little wretch, who looked like a baboon and smelled like one too.

“That’s it!” Charlene yelled as she leaped at me and jaseipoavfn————

I wrested the journal back from Charlene and ran out the door. She tried to pursue but tripped over the curb and fell face-first into a dumpster.

“I did not!” yelled Charlene, picking a banana peel out of her hair. “I just fell to the pavement! You’re making things up! A journal is supposed to be an accurate record! An accurate record!”

Her dumb voice echoed through the street as I hurried away. The sun was still out and quite bright and...

Actually, that doesn’t really work now that we know this is a ghost story.

It was the dead of night, not even the moon lighting the streets around me. In every shadow lurked danger. Down an alleyway, I thought I saw a dark figure move in my direction.

Actually, that did just happen. I don’t know what that was. He was there, and then he was gone. I think.

I picked up my pace, glancing behind me every so often. I soon reached the RALFS headquarters, the secretive meeting place of rebellious war orphans. All our parents had been killed in the Last War. We’ve been assured that our parents were very bad people and deserved to die, but we’re still kind of miffed about that and about how society seems to hate us and want to get rid of us. So it was in this RALFS headquarters that a special gathering of war orphans designed their sinister plans for revenge under cover of darkness... though they were currently missing a door.

“I’m replacing the door,” said the casually psychotic Greg, trying to maneuver a door to line up with the hinges. “It’s going to be more secure — though it’s pretty insecure in the meantime, and installing a door is harder than I thought. Can you help?”

I walked past him and was soon greeted by Pam, the RALFS accountant, but I ignored her as well, because I don’t like her.

“You don’t like me?” Pam asked. “Why?”

Again I ignored her, heading to a back room, where I spotted Annette and Steve, the nominal leaders of the RALFS. Annette was a mousy-haired woman in glasses — the prototypical nerd girl who will eventually take off her glasses and let her hair down and reveal that she’s a knockout.

“Thanks, I guess,” Annette said, “but I need the glasses to see.”

Steve was a subdued, bearded young man, his affable exterior hiding the rage boiling inside him that would one day cause his friendly smile to be caked in blood.

“Wait; what?” Steve asked. “What are you doing? ...And I’m asking in a friendly manner; no rage. I don’t know where you got that from.”

They glanced at me, then at each other, a subtle glimpse of romance behind their eyes. Or maybe they’re brother and sister; I never got their relationship.

“We think we might be related,” Annette stated. “We don’t know for sure.”

“Just like you, we have no idea about our parentage,” Steve explained. “I guess we could get a genetic test, but we never got around to it.” He turned to Annette for support, but his gaze quickly turned to lust. Annette stared back at him, her mouth slightly open, a desire burgeoning in her loins.

“Okay, please stop that, whatever it is you’re doing,” Annette stammered. “Did you need something, Lulu?”

“I’ve heard there’s something unusual going on. Something... paranormal.”

“What’s dot, dot, dot paranormal?” Steve asked.

“I think she’s talking about the ghosts we saw,” Annette said. “Yeah, we were hoping Hellbender would help out here, because we know you guys have experience with some weird stuff.”

“We’re pretty freaked out,” Steve stated. “I mean, I went into a dark room and saw someone moving around, but I turned on the light, and nobody was there.”

“I saw it, too,” Annette added. “A dark figure came at me and just disappeared.”

“Do they seem hostile?” I asked.

“Pam says she felt one of these things grab her,” Steve said. “Like it was just trying to attack her.”

Maybe they’re just good judges of character, I thought to myself.

“That’s not nice,” Annette chided me, “but anyway, that one just disappeared as soon as she looked at it.”

“And when did this start?” I asked.

“Today,” Steve answered. “We started seeing them a few hours ago, though I don’t think anything for the past hour or so.”

“I think it started a little bit after we got that shipment from Rook,” Annette said.

“What shipment?” I inquired. “Was it a big crate of ghosts?”

“No,” Annette answered.

“Because if it was a crate of ghosts,” I said, “that would explain things.”

“Well, yes, but it was a crate of neck pillows.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Let me see them.”

“What does the narrowing your eyes mean?” Steve asked. His eyes then caressed the curves of my body that were accented by my tight red dress. A longing grew inside him for the striking woman in front of him, and he soon forgot his (possibly incestuous) lust for Annette. Annette noticed the infidelity of his gaze and glared at me with a sharp, feminine rage.

“Okay, you’re making me uncomfortable now,” Annette said. “And it is okay for Steve to... uh... admire you, as there is nothing romantic between us.”

“I was just curious why you’re wearing that dress,” Steve stated. “Is there an event or something going on?”

“There’s never an event for wearing a sexy cocktail dress,” I snapped. “So I’m just wearing it today. And if you’re done lusting after me, why don’t you show me this shipment of neck pillows!”

“I’m not...” Steve stammered and looked at Annette. “Let’s just take her to it.”

They led me out of the back room to an open area where they had boxes of supplies. At the center was a wooden crate. I peered inside. There were numerous neck pillows in varying earth tones.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure why we bought a whole crate of neck pillows,” Steve said.

“Well, Rook gave us a discount,” Annette said. “And I thought he made a good point about how a rebellion needs to be well rested and shouldn’t have bad necks.”

I nodded and secretly admired Rook’s much better ability to exploit the RALFS for money.

“Sorry, what?” Annette blurted.

“And we don’t like being called the RALFS,” Steve added. “We’re the Rebel Alliance.”

“Like from Star Wars,” Annette added.

Again I nodded, not paying attention to them as I peered into the crate of neck pillows.

“There are fifty-two in there,” Pam said, having snuck in behind us. “I made a record of them all, with colors, if that helps.”

“That could be helpful,” I lied to Pam, wishing her dead on the spot.

“I’m sorry, was there something—” Pam started to say, but I shushed her as I pretended to spot something. But then I actually spotted something.

I bent over to look down the crate. My rear, highlighted by my tight dress, instantly caught Steve’s gaze.

“Hey, I didn’t... You can’t even see me...”

I came up with a couple of thin shards.

“You could probably get a better grip on those if you set down that book you’re constantly writing in,” Annette suggested.

“Huh, I guess I didn’t notice those,” Pam said. “I guess I was too focused on recording the different neck pillow colors.”

“What do you think they are?” Steve asked.

I stared at the shards. They were very delicate. “They’re like pieces of a shell.” Finally, it all clicked into place. “They’re shards of an eggshell.” I turned to face Annette and Steve (but not Pam, because I don’t like looking at her). “So that’s what happened: In this crate, an egg was hidden. A ghost egg.”

They stared at me in confusion.

“A ghost egg is an egg out of which hatches a ghost,” I told them, explaining what a ghost egg is.

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” Steve said.

“And why would ghosts come out of physical eggs?” Annette asked. “I mean, if a ghost egg even were a thing, wouldn’t the eggshell also be, like... ghost-ish?”

“It kind of looks like porcelain,” Pam said. “And I see decoration on one of the shards. It might be a piece of a Fabergé egg.”

“That’s kind of a leap, Pam,” I snapped at her, though looking at the shard, she might have been right. Whatever it was, it was my only clue. My next stop was to talk to Rook to see where this shipment of neck pillows with a ghost egg came from.

“Yeah, it’s probably a good idea to talk to Rook,” Annette said, “and see if he’s seen anything weird, too. You should probably stop this journaling thing you’re doing, though, since he might have his people beat you up if you annoy him.”

I ignored her, gave one more hateful glare to Pam, and headed for the door.

“I got the door on,” Greg said with pride. “It doesn’t latch, though.”

I pushed past the loose door and headed through the streets to the Capitol of Rooktown. It was a standard capitol building — with pillars and everything — of what used to be the Confederacy of Astara’s city of Calais until the city was abandoned and taken over by a two-bit criminal named Rook, a man Hellbender sometimes worked for but mainly just pestered.

I found Rook inside the capitol building behind an overturned table. He stood up when he saw me, flanked by his thugs, Driscoll and Candy. Driscoll was a large, older man who looked like he could take a punch, but time would soon lay him down anyway. Candy was a young woman who got the thug job as a diversity hire and had trouble being very intimidating with her slight frame and stripper name.

“Candy is my actual name,” Candy corrected me. “My stripper name is Sapphire.”

“What’s she doing right now?” Rook asked, glaring at me.

“She appears to be narrating,” Driscoll stated.

“Oh, great. That won’t be irritating,” Rook said. He then stared at me for a moment. “Did she just say, ‘Rook said’?”

“So why are you guys in such defensive positions here?” I asked. “Did you see some ghosts?”

“Yeah, we did earlier,” Rook said. “And then we thought we saw another one, but I guess that was just you. So is this another Hellbender thing? You guys always seem to be involved when anything weird happens.”

“I don’t think we caused this one,” I said, “but I’m investigating it.”

“Is this your investigating outfit?” Rook asked. His eyes lingered on all my curves, and his hungry gaze finally settled on my chest and all the low neckline revealed.

“If you didn’t want me staring at them, why’d you wear a dress like that?” Rook said, not changing the focus of his leer.

“We have ghosts to discuss,” I said.

“Just a couple more seconds,” Rook replied. He finally moved his gaze from my chest to my eyes.

“I don’t feel like you’re treating me with respect,” I said.

“I think I’m treating you with more respect than you deserve,” Rook answered.

“So, do you know anything about the ghosts?” Driscoll asked, trying to move the conversation along, as the old man probably didn’t have much time left in this world.

“I have questions,” I stated importantly. “Where did you get the neck pillows you sold to the RALFS?”

“Are they wanting a refund on that? Because I don’t do refunds,” Rook said.

“Just answer the question.”

Rook frowned. “Don’t ‘just answer the question’ me, sweet cheeks. Do you think I won’t have Candy and Driscoll stomp you? And as for the neck pillows, they maybe fell off a truck owned by 4B22 — you know, the science weirdos.”

Large-Scale Societal Rules Association Designation 4B22 was a nation run under the principles of science and logic, though most people just found them really irritating to deal with.

“We all know what 4B22 is,” Rook said. “You are inching ever closer to that stomping.”

I held up the fragments I had found in the neck pillow crate. “Something fragile was in the crate. We found pieces of something delicate. Maybe a Fabergé egg…” I then added more quickly under my breath, “...or a ghost egg.”

“A ghost egg is not a thing,” Rook stated, but I quickly noticed a change in expression from Candy. She knew something. And then Rook and Driscoll looked at her as well.

“Yeah, she does look like she’s hiding something,” Rook said and then turned to me. “But please stop that.”

I ignored him and took a step closer to Candy. “What do you know about the egg?”

“When we were first looking through the crates, I did find something in the one with neck pillows,” Candy said. “It was like a neat decorative egg. But when I tried to pick it up, I felt something move inside it, which startled me, and I dropped it. When it shattered, there was something like a pink cockroach inside. I screamed, and it scurried away.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Driscoll said. “I told you, ‘You can’t scream like that when you’re being an enforcer for a criminal organization.’”

“I remember that, too,” Rook agreed. “That was ear-splitting. Oh, and soon after, we saw one of those ghosts.”

I nodded. “Obviously, we’re dealing with a ghost-pooping cockroach.”

“Will you stop making things up?” Rook asked.

“No,” I answered firmly. “But can you take me to the remains of the decorative egg?”

Rook sighed. “Sure. What else do I have to do today? Lead the way, Candy, for our Sherlock... Holmes,” Rook said, trying to devise a clever pun but failing. “Shut up, Lulu!” he added. “Let’s just do this.”

We all followed Candy, keeping an eye out for ghosts as we walked. We soon came to an area of the Capitol that had been converted to storage where there were numerous wooden crates and cardboard boxes. “It was over here,” Candy said, walking to one corner. “That big pink cockroach really freaked me out.”

On the floor near the wall were the remains of the decorative egg. I leaned over to check the shards while Rook stared at my rear.

“You bet I am.”

In the shards, I noticed something. It looked like a tiny data card. I quickly grabbed it, hoping Rook and the others didn’t notice.

“Sorry, what did you just say there?” Rook asked. “Your narration got much quieter all of a sudden.”

I stood up and smiled nonchalantly. “I was just painting the scene with some colorful language.”

“‘Nonchalantly’ is a good word,” Rook said, eying me suspiciously.

“Do you have something in your hand?” Driscoll asked me.

“So when did you last see a ghost?” I asked, changing the subject.

“It was about two hours ago,” Candy said. “I hope they’re gone.”

I nodded. “It was somewhere around two hours ago that the RALFS started seeing ghosts. Could the roach have been in the crate of neck pillows delivered there?”

“I think it ran into the crate when I screamed,” Candy said.

“Do you think that roach has something to do with the ghosts’ appearance?” Rook asked.

“I more than think,” I answered. “I know.”

“How do you know?” Driscoll inquired.

“I don’t; I was just being dramatic,” I admitted. “But it seems like they’re related.”

“Great, well, why don’t you go find that cockroach somewhere in this filthy city,” Rook said. He put it in a somewhat mocking way, but I could tell he was worried and relying on me to fix this. These “ghosts” were something out of his control, and all Rook ever wanted in life was control. This went back to when he was a child and couldn’t control his bladder and constantly wet his pants in public—

“You’re just making stuff up now!” Rook shouted.

“I’m trying to give you a back story,” I explained.

“Okay, you’ve been annoying enough that I can’t just let this go.” He turned to Candy. “You need more roughing-up experience, so I want you to rough up Lulu a bit. Maybe grab that journal of hers and beat her with it.”

Candy nodded and stepped toward me, putting on as intimidating a face as the petite girl could manage. Little did she know what awaited her and how this moment would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Candy stopped. “Wait; what’s she talking about?”

“She’s trying to intimidate you with a narrative device,” Driscoll explained. “She’s bluffing.”

But there was no bluff, as Candy would soon find out. Forever after, she would wish she had listened to her gut and not the past-retirement-age thug.

Candy froze again. “She’s creeping me out.”

“Ignore her. She’s just making stuff up; she’s an unreliable narrator,” Driscoll told her, giving her the worst advice of her life.

Candy still hesitated. Maybe she didn’t have to do this, she thought. Maybe she didn’t have to spend the rest of her life in misery and regret.

“Okay, you win, Lulu,” Rook stated. “Just leave.” He reconsidered. “Actually, wait one second.” He stared at my chest again for a few seconds. “Okay, now I’m bored, and you can leave.”

I left the abode of the petty thugs and headed down the street, contemplating my next move. The mysterious pink roach had most likely been delivered to the RALFS headquarters inside the crate of neck pillows, but they had stopped seeing the apparitions, meaning that the roach must have moved elsewhere. Doug, Bryce, and Charlene seemed to have seen the ghosts most recently of anyone, so perhaps the roach was near the Hellbender headquarters.

I also had the data card. Perhaps there was a clue on it. A clue in the form of data.

I returned to our headquarters. I didn’t see Doug, Bryce, or Charlene there, and that left the place dark and foreboding (though also less annoying). We had a console that would read the data card, so I sat down in front of it and inserted the card.

The card contained a file called “Exotic Matter’s Effect on Periplaneta americana.” I opened it, and there was a giant wall of text. Just massive. So many words. This probably held the answer to everything, but it was just giant paragraph after giant paragraph and no pictures whatsoever. I wanted to solve the mystery, but I wasn’t going to just sit here and read that much. I had to find another way.

I felt a chill in the room. Very stereotypical ghost stuff. Or the A/C.

I looked behind me. There it was. An apparition that looked like a person somehow cast a shadow onto the air in the middle of the room. The hairs on my neck stood up as I watched the thing, and I could tell it was watching me, too.

“Hello, I’m Lulu,” I said to it. “Do you want to be friends?”

The ghost approached — perhaps for friendship. As it got nearer, I felt myself frozen in place. And then its arms shot out in an icy grasp, the seemingly insubstantial creature seizing my neck in a steel grip. I gasped for air but was pinned against the table behind me.

“Stop writing in that book and run!” I heard Doug shout.

Charlene grabbed me and pulled me out of the chair and away from the ghost while Bryce came at it with a broom. The broom went through the shadowy figure as if it weren’t there.

“Maybe it’s like smoke, and we can blow it away!” Doug yelled, got close to the ghost, and tried blowing on it to no effect. “We need a bigger blower! Do we have a leaf blower?”

“Of course we don’t have a leaf blower!” Bryce shouted, still uselessly swinging his broom at the specter as it approached him.

“Maybe it’s like one of those traditional ghosts, and it needs to handle unfinished business before it can move on,” I suggested, and then turned to the phantom and said, “Is there anyone you need revenge against?”

“It’s probably us,” Doug stated, having given up the blowing and instead drawing his katana. “It’s always us.”

Now the...

“Hey, what are some more words for ‘ghost’?” I asked. “I don’t want to keep writing ghost over and over.”

“Wraith,” Doug suggested.

“Oh, I haven’t used that one.”

Now the wraith advanced on Doug. But I noticed something. Something small and pink toward the back of the room. As the others uselessly fought the spirit (there’s another good one), I carefully approached the small thing I saw. There it was: a pink cockroach, nearly two inches long. I looked for something to smash it with and realized I was holding something that would work.

Anyway, if you’re wondering why there are roach guts on this book, that’s why.

After I smashed the cockroach, I turned to see that Charlene, Doug, and Bryce were now alone. The... eh... ghost was gone.

“There! I solved the case,” I declared. “That cockroach was making the ghosts appear through cockroach magic.”

Doug lifted an eyebrow. “Cockroach magic?”

“Yep, it was obviously a pink cockroach wizard,” I stated. “But now it’s dead, and we’re all saved.”

Charlene looked at the computer. “What were you doing on there? That looks like a research paper.”

“Yeah, this was apparently some research experiment from the science weirdos,” I said. “But I outsmarted them, because I smashed it good.”

Charlene sat at the computer and read because she’s a boring person who reads boring stuff.

“So case closed, right?” Bryce said. “You can be done with this bit?”

“Is there something about that movie we saw last night that you wanted to talk about?” Doug asked. “I got the idea it really upset you.”

I thought about the last scene I had watched. Batman had Superman dead to rights, ready to finish him off with a kryptonite spear. But then...

Charlene exclaimed, “Oh no!”

“Is that a good ‘oh no’?” I asked.

“There’s no such thing as a good ‘oh no,’ Lulu!” Charlene shouted.

“What if you were a fan of classical Japanese dance-drama?” I countered. “Then, if you saw a poster for one, you might exclaim, ‘Oh, Noh!’ And that would be a good thing.”

“That’s not what this is!” Charlene screeched. “I didn’t screech,” she added. “Just shut up a second and listen. According to this research paper, 4B22 was experimenting with some sort of exotic particulate they found.”

“Particulate?” Doug asked.

“It’s like a ‘particle,’” Charlene explained, “but really sciency.”

“‘Particle’ is already a really sciency term,” Bryce objected.

“Just let me finish!” Charlene screeched. “And stop saying I’m screeching, Lulu! Anyway, they found out that when a roach consumed the particulate, it could make a stable but weak connection to another dimension.”

“How are you reading that thing this quickly?” I asked.

“I’m just reading the abstract,” Charlene said. “The summary at the beginning of a research paper.”

“Well, aren’t you little miss knows-all-about-research-papers?”

“Yes, I am!” Charlene exclaimed. “You should try knowing things, Lulu.”

But knowing wasn’t my forte — thinking was. So I stroked my chin thoughtfully while taking in this new information. “So the ghosts are actually beings from another dimension. Hostile beings.”

“Only partially in our dimension,” Charlene said, “but that’s not the important part. The paper says that if the roach is killed, the connection will grow more powerful and destabilize.”

“Oh, Noh,” I said, briefly thinking about Japanese dance-drama. But then I realized what Charlene had just said and exclaimed, “Oh no!”

Everyone stared at me. “I hate you so much, Lulu,” Charlene finally said.

The room was filled with the sound of reality itself tearing apart. We turned to see a purple, glowing object floating in mid-air. A portal, perhaps — a portal to some place we did not want to go. And then we saw the... I will keep saying “ghost” now, as I don’t have time to come up with any more synonyms. And then we saw another. And another. We looked all around us, and at least half a dozen ghosts surrounded us, their shadowy forms all staring at us with malicious, ethereal eyes.

“Can you be quiet, Lulu?” Bryce asked, barely holding in the panic.

“What does the science paper say to do?” Doug asked, uselessly holding his katana between himself and the ghosts.

“It doesn’t say in the abstract!” Charlene shouted.

The ghosts ever so slowly approached us. “Read fast!” Bryce yelled, gripping his broom tightly.

“Well, let’s see... uh...” Charlene uttered as she scrolled through the paper on the computer screen.

The ghosts were nearly upon us, and Bryce’s waving his broom, Doug’s stabbing at them with his katana, and my writing about everything was doing nothing to slow them down.

“There’s... um... something about the exotic matter’s frequency being disrupted by certain ceramics. Wait, are they talking about... porcelain?” Charlene then screamed as one of the ghosts grabbed her and pulled her from her chair. Bryce went to swing his broom at it, but another one grabbed him from behind, and he fell to the ground. A third one came for me, but I dodged away, contemplating what Charlene had uncovered.

“That’s why it was in a Fabergé egg!” I exclaimed. “If we can get the dead roach inside porcelain, maybe we can end this!” And then I saw it across the room: Charlene's tea set.

“The what? The tea set?” Doug asked as he ducked and dodged ghosts. Charlene was clinging to the leg of the table while two ghosts were now pulling her away. Bryce was slowly being dragged across the floor toward the purple tear in the world.

“Stop describing the scene and tell me what to do!” Doug yelled as he reached the tea set.

“Grab the sugar container — we need something with a lid!” I told him as I slipped the grasp of a ghost that lunged at me, then went for the dead roach.

“I don’t want a roach in that!” Charlene cried, her grip slowly slipping from the table leg.

“Just do something!” Bryce shouted, grabbing the side of a booth just before the ghosts could pull him all the way to the purple portal.

Doug grabbed the porcelain sugar holder—

“It’s just called a sugar bowl!” Charlene shouted.

Doug grabbed the porcelain sugar bowl and rushed toward me, but three ghosts caught him at once. He tossed the bowl to me.

“Don’t let that break!” Charlene gasped as she slowly lost grip of the table leg.

I caught the bowl and lid between the journal I’m writing in and my ample bosom. I bent to scoop the dead roach into the sugar bowl, but a ghost grabbed my leg. I fell to the ground, barely cradling the bowl so it didn’t break. The dead roach was near my head, and I could scoop it into the bowl if there was only a way to reach out to it.

“You can if you just stop writing in the journal and use two hands!” screamed Charlene, still holding onto the table leg with all her might.

“Oh, come on! Are you still writing in that thing?!” Bryce yelled as he lost grip on the booth. “We’re all going to die!”

And it became clear: This was a choice between continuing my bit and saving my friends.

“How is that even a choice?!” Charlene shouted as I tried to inch toward the roach while a ghost pulled at my ankle.

“Lulu, you’ve got to get over whatever this is!” Doug shouted as ghosts wrestled him to the ground. “Whatever triggered you when you heard Batman shout about Martha!”

WHY DID YOU SAY THAT NAME?! echoed in Lulu’s head. She could see the anguished look on Batman’s face. The pleading eyes of Superman.

“You’re not even being consistent!” Charlene stated as she lost her grip on the table leg. “You suddenly switched to third-person narration!”

Doug had chosen Batman v Superman thinking it would be neat to watch, since both Batman and Superman were orphans like all of them, but all it had done was emphasize what they had that Lulu never would. Superman had lost his parents on Krypton, but he still knew of them through magic space crystals. And he had adopted parents who loved him. He had Martha. And Batman, though orphaned too, at least knew his parents' faces. He knew their names. Lulu’s mother could have been named Martha too, but she would never know. In Batman’s place, she would have just gone on to stab Superman with that spear.

“I can see you’re working through some psychological issue,” Bryce yelled, having gotten a loose hold on the side of another booth to temporarily halt the ghosts from pulling him to the portal. “You need to do it quicker!”

“So, is that why you’re doing the bit?” Doug asked as three ghosts slowly dragged him over the floor. “You have to stop, though, Lulu!”

The others had never really understood what the bits meant to Lulu. The world had been a harsh, uncaring place ever since she could remember, raised an orphan by a society that despised her. Hated. No real future ahead of her. The injustice and the misery of every single day was a crushing weight, but she’d found a way to fight back: She could just reject that reality as having any influence on her. She could play games that might infuriate others or even put her in danger, but if she just ignored the consequences of the real world, it was like it didn’t even exist. And she was invincible.

So when Batman and Superman had reminded her of the reality where she had no parents, no family — no anything — she’d left that reality.

“You have family!” Doug yelled. “Us!”

“At least for a few seconds longer!” Bryce added as he was forced to let go again and was pulled along the floor.

“It’s like from that other movie, Fast & Furious!” Doug said as the ghosts pulled him across the floor. “They call themselves family, but they’re just a bunch of people who hang out together.”

“No, we’re not a fake family like that,” Charlene objected as her fingernails dug into the linoleum to stop her from being dragged to the portal and the unknown. “I hate all of you — especially Lulu and these dumb, attention-seeking stunts she does. But I still look out for all of you, and you for me. People whom you despise but care for anyway — that’s not friends, that’s family!”

But that was the problem with cutting herself off from the pain of reality: It also cut her off from anything she really cared about. Here were the people she had known since she was a child — the people she was stuck with by some bureaucrat, but her family nonetheless — and they were in real danger. The only way to save them was to recognize that reality — to end her bit — to shed her false invincibility and let all the pain of the world in so she could save those she cared for. So as much as she enjoyed the bit with the journal — especially how it irritated Charlene — she knew what she had to do. The ghost was pulling her away, but she could still reach out to the roach if she just did one thing.

She had to let go.

Charlene here. Lulu tried to make it look heroic that she just dropped the stupid journal and saved us, but that was really, really dumb, and we’re all very mad at her. Still, when she scooped up the dead roach in the sugar bowl and put on the lid, the ghosts and the portal disappeared. Who knows what those interdimensional beings were, but I guess they’re just more items on the list of things that want to kill us. Anyway, I later found a secret spot and buried the sugar bowl, and I didn’t tell Doug, Bryce, or Lulu — especially Lulu — where because they’re all idiots, and I can’t trust that they won’t try to do something with it. And now I need a new sugar bowl for my hot brew set.

Also, I’m banning us from watching Justice League — the theatrical version of the Snyder Cut — so Lulu doesn’t have any more annoying mental breakdowns (which are really just for attention — just like that dress she was wearing). Next movie night, I’m picking the movie, and it’s going to be You’ve Got Mail, which I think should be an interesting exploration of late 20th-century communications. There might be some tactical information we can glean from it.

And as should be obvious, I was able to get my journal back when Lulu dropped it to handle the roach. I kind of want to tear out all the pages of her nonsense, but I guess I’ll just leave it. But I’m going to hide this better so no one can take it again.

UPDATE: Charlene didn’t successfully hide the journal and eventually died sad and alone, much unlike the protagonists of all those romcoms she makes us watch.

Okay, she found it again. And the movies I pick are all ones I think have useful knowledge that can help us in combat and other areas. Of course, if the movie also happens to have romance and comedy in it, that’s just a bonus.

Anyway, I’m getting a safe for my journals.

I hope you enjoyed that. Check out the Hellbender series for more adventures of Doug, Bryce, Charlene, and Lulu. It only gets crazier.

This is a sort of sequel to my short story Who Murdered the Dinosaurs — or at least it uses the same CSIs — though you don’t need to have read that beforehand.

The rain poured down in sheets. The sky roared with anger. If CSI Braeburn had been a superstitious man, he’d have taken it as an ominous sign. But Braeburn was a man of science. All it meant to him was the clouds above had become heavy with condensation.

“Sounds like God is angry,” said his partner Devereux as she stepped into the apartment complex with him. She pulled at her navy blue cover. “This rain poncho makes me look so frumpy.”

“We’re not trying to impress the dead,” Braeburn said.

“But there are living people here too.” Devereux struggled to get off her poncho, slamming into the wall and knocking off a painting. She fell to the ground but soon stood back up, now just in a gray pants suit. “Let’s investigate a murder!”

Braeburn nodded, and the two headed for the stairs. They saw police officers standing around on the third floor and one room with the door open and yellow police tape over the entrance. As they approached, a young, female police officer came out of the room, quickly ducking under the tape and running to a wall, where she started throwing up. An intimidating, dark-haired woman in a blue dress emerged from the taped apartment. She looked with disdain at the vomiting police officer and shook her head. “Rookies. Always thinking they can cover up their bulimia by only throwing up at crime scenes.” She called out to the officer. “I saw you throw up at a shoplifting! You’re not fooling anyone!”

“Detective Haralson,” Braeburn addressed the woman.

She looked at him coldly. “Braeburn.”

A police officer approached, bringing a bearded man in a bathrobe with him. “He says he heard the gunshot,” said the officer.

Haralson pulled out a notebook and a pen. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure,” answered the bearded man.

“If you were to get a hat for a seal, what kind of hat would you get him?”

The man looked confused.

“Just answer the question,” prompted Haralson.

“Um... a bowler hat, maybe.”

Haralson made a mild sound of contemplation as she wrote in her notebook. “What do you think the number seven would taste like?”

Again, the man looked confused. “A little sour, I guess.”

“If I told you one of the letters of the alphabet robbed a liquor store, who would you most suspect?”

“Um... X. No, wait, K.”

“Thank you. No further questions.”

“So, do you want to hear about the gunshot?”

“No further questions,” Haralson repeated.

The confused, bearded man walked off.

“Those were... some interesting questions,” Devereux told Haralson.

“People lie,” Haralson explained. “So I ask people questions they don’t know how to lie to.” Haralson stepped toward the taped-up doorway and looked inside.

Devereaux turned and whispered to Braeburn, “Wow. She’s either a genius or an idiot.”

Braeburn shrugged.

Haralson turned away from the apartment and looked again at Braeburn and Devereaux. “I’m going to talk to other witnesses; the crime scene is yours. I don’t know how much you’ll have to find; it looks like a gunshot to the back of the head, the perpetrator having come in through the bedroom window.”

“We’ll determine that,” said Braeburn. “Things aren’t always as they seem.”

Haralson gave another cold look to Braeburn and walked off.

“She doesn’t seem to like you,” commented Devereux.

“We used to date.”

“What happened?”

“She didn’t like how I always put my job ahead of her,” Braeburn said. “Also, she’s a lesbian.”

Devereux nodded. “In a relationship, it’s important to put each other’s needs first and to also be attracted to each other.” Devereux hesitated a moment and then added. “I’m attracted to men, by the way.”

“And I’m not,” Braeburn said forcefully. “And I can’t understand anyone who is. I guess that’s why I’m only attracted to lesbians. Come on.” He ducked under the crime tape into the apartment, and Devereux followed.

The victim’s name was Doyle Barker. Thirty-four years old. Lived alone. When Braeburn and Devereaux entered the crime scene, the body was lit by the glow of a laptop screen. Doyle was slumped over on his desk, blood splattered on the screen. The screen was distorted, spiraling from one center of impact.

“I guess someone cut off his screen time,” Devereux remarked.

Braeburn looked at her. “Huh?”

“I was trying to make a morbid quip.”

“The chief told us to stop doing those.”

“The chief can suck it.”

Braeburn looked back at the laptop. “We will have no problem finding the slug; it’s right there in the screen.”

Devereux stared at the broken screen. “Looks like he was on Twitter. I love that site. There are so many dumb people on there, and you get to spend all day yelling at them.”

“I don’t use social media or the internet,” Braeburn stated. “It’s a big waste of time.”

“It’s not a waste of time to inform dumb people they’re dumb,” Devereux said indignantly. “I’ll see what I can find out about the bullet trajectory.”

“I’ll check out the bedroom.”

Braeburn entered the bedroom of the one-bedroom apartment. A window leading out to a fire escape was open, the latch on the window broken. It looked pretty clear someone had broken the window open from the outside and forced his way in.

Braeburn looked more carefully at the broken latch. There were some fibers snagged on it. Braeburn carefully collected them into an evidence bag.

“So what did you find?” asked Detective Haralson as she re-entered the crime scene.

“The perpetrator appears to have come in through the bedroom by breaking open the window,” Braeburn said.

“And according to the bullet trajectory,” Devereux added, “he must have snuck up behind the victim and shot him through the back of the head.”

Haralson tossed up her hands. “I already knew this from a quick glance at the crime scene. What are you even here for?”

“We found some other pieces of evidence we’ll have to analyze back at the lab,” Braeburn said.

Haralson nodded. “Great. In a few hours, we’ll have even more confirmation that our victim was shot in the back of the head. Do you think either one of you could see if you can get something off his computer to give us a hint as to maybe who murdered him?”

Braeburn and Devereaux looked at each other and then at Haralson. “Neither of us is really a computer guy,” Devereaux said.

Haralson sighed. “Give it to Crispin and tell me what he finds. You two try to be useful, okay?” Haralson then left the apartment.

“I don’t like your lesbian ex-girlfriend,” Devereaux remarked.

“She’s an acquired taste,” Braeburn stated. “I’m still smitten with her.”

Devereaux groaned and began to bag up the shattered laptop.

“Huh, that’s interesting.”

Braeburn raised an eyebrow at Devereau’s statement. They had been working in the lab for hours — the long boring part of their job that would have been covered up with a fast-paced montage if it were a TV show. “What did you find?” Braeburn asked.

Devereaux was looking at the slug from the murder scene under a microscope. “Well, it’s a 9-millimeter bullet. The rifling is preserved, and it should be easy to match up to the gun when we have it. But the composition is... odd.” Devereaux beckoned for Braeburn to take a look through the microscope.

Braeburn looked through the eyepiece. He saw a bullet. “You see it?” Devereaux asked.

“It just looks like a bullet to me,” Braeburn said. “I don’t spend as much time looking at bullets as you; could you tell me what I’m looking at?”

“Look where I cut into it,” Devereaux instructed. “I noticed something was odd with the weight, so I checked the composition. Inside is an iron core. The bullet is made from lead surrounding iron.”

Braeburn could see the cuts Devereaux had made and the different-colored metal inside. “And that’s unusual?”

“It’s stupid,” Devereaux declared. “Why would you put iron in there? Just use all lead like a God-fearing bullet-maker.”

Braeburn looked away from the microscope and thought about it. “Is it to reinforce the bullet?”

“If you’re going to do that, you put metal on the outside, not the inside,” Devereaux explained. “Make a full metal jacket bullet. Metal on the inside is dumb. It’s a dumb bullet.”

Braeburn thought about it for a few seconds. “Maybe whoever made the bullet ran out of lead.”

“Then you go to the... um... metal store and get more lead,” Devereaux said. “It’s not that hard to get lead. What you don’t do is make a dumb bullet like this dumb bullet.”

“Still, the bullet worked for its intention.”

Devereaux rolled her eyes. “Well, anything fired at high speeds is going to kill people. But have a little pride making your bullets.”

“So, do you think the shooter himself made this odd bullet?”

“No, I see a lot of precision, including the iron part. It was manufactured,” Devereaux answered. “And we can’t assume the shooter is a ‘him.’ Women can shoot people too.”

Braeburn shook his head. “Doesn’t happen that much.”

“I’ve shot people,” Devereaux asserted.

“Yeah, but you’re a statistical anomaly.”

Devereaux frowned. “I’m almost certain that’s an insult.”

“Hey, guys.” A young, skinny man in a white dress shirt and black tie walked in carrying the damaged laptop from the crime scene. It was Crispin, the police station “computer guy.”

“What do you want, you disgusting nerd?” Devereaux demanded.

“Well... uh... you told me you wanted me to see what I can find on this laptop,” Crispin answered.

“But it’s broken!” Devereaux said. “What are you going to show us?”

“Just the screen is broken,” Crispin replied. “I can still hook it up to an external monitor and show you what’s on it.”

Devereaux put her hands over her ears. “Don’t pollute my brain with your stupid geek talk. Just tell us what you found!”

Crispin walked over to a desk with a monitor and set down the laptop. “I just need to connect this HDMI cable to it and—”

“I swear if I hear any more of your nerd jargon, I will vomit all over you in disgust!” Devereaux shouted.

On screen appeared a web browser on the Twitter website.

“There’s that site where you tell wrong people they’re wrong!” exclaimed Devereaux.

Crispin scrolled through the Twitter feed. The victim’s avatar was of some anime character, and his name online was Truth Party. “Yeah, and the victim apparently got in a lot of arguments on Twitter.”

“Anything look significant?” Braeburn asked and then spotted something. “That one. ‘I hope you die in a fire.’ That’s close to a threat.” Braeburn stared at the message more closely. “The avatar looks a lot like you, Devereaux.”

Devereaux leaned toward the screen to look. “Oh, that is me. But I say ‘I hope you die in a fire’ to people online all the time. It doesn’t mean anything — other than that someone’s opinions are so bad I hope he has a painful death. People threaten each other on here all the time, but that’s just the charm of Twitter.”

“So I guess if the killer is from online, we need a conversation more unusual than just a disagreement,” Braeburn stated.

“Well, there was this one guy the victim argued with a lot.” Crispen scrolled to show angry back and forth with a user named Matchbook with an avatar of a pug wearing a birthday hat. “But look how abrupt his last conversation ended.”

They saw a few back and forths between the victim, Truth Party, and Matchbook, and then Truth Party had one last reply: “Your argument makes me think of something Hitler would say.” There was no reply from Matchbook.

“What were they arguing about?” Braeburn asked.

“Whether a hotdog is technically a sandwich,” Crispen answered.

“Godwin’s Law,” Devereaux stated. “It’s a law of the internet: If any conversation goes on long enough, eventually a comparison to Hitler is made. That’s because people with different opinions from your own are very reminiscent of Hitler. The comparison doesn’t usually work, but maybe it did this time. Maybe the conversation ended because the guy was like, ‘Oh yeah, I do sound like Hitler in my rigid definition of a sandwich.”

Braeburn’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe he went quiet because he decided to plot murder.”

“That seems like a big leap,” Crispen said. “But I’m no detective. Then again, neither are you; you’re the CSIs. I probably should be showing this to Detective Haralson.”

“We solve murders, too!” Devereaux yelled. “Unlike you, you nerd!”

“I’ve solved a lot of crimes using computers,” Crispen replied.

“Yeah, but you looked like a dork doing it!” Devereaux made a face and pretended to type at a keyboard.

“Crispen, can you find out anything about this Matchbook person?” Braeburn asked.

“It’s hard with anonymous Twitter accounts, but I’ll see what I can find.”

“Good, get out of here, you nerd,” Devereaux said. “It’s workplace harassment just having a nerd like you exist near me.”

Devereaux watched as Crispen disconnected the laptop and headed out of the lab. She then turned to Braeburn. “Is he ever going to ask me out? I’ve given him all the signals!”

“Don’t talk to me about dating men,” Braeburn said. “I’ve told you the thought of someone dating a man disgusts me.” Braeburn returned to the piece of cloth he was analyzing and looked at the computer screen. “Hmm. Here’s something interesting from that piece of the killer’s clothing. There’s nothing unusual about the fabric, but I found chemical traces of gum arabic on it.”

“What does that mean?” Devereaux asked.

Braeburn shrugged. “Nothing much by itself. Gum arabic is used in a lot of foods.”

“Maybe the killer is a fatty,” Devereaux suggested.

“How does that help us?” Braeburn asked.

“Well, if we eventually find him and he runs, that will make catching him easier.”

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