Selpharia

Well, I’m pretty sure everyone was happy she was gone, or perhaps they didn’t remember she ever existed? Fairy magic is powerful stuff

Well, the moral’s a bit unconventional, so I ditched the Grimm route

Thank you! Particularly clever readers of both of my stories might notice an interesting link between the two, but it’s certainly not required for enjoyment.

Hello everyone, I haven’t had a chance to work on my major stories for a while, because my computer has been in the shop. So I decided to write this as a kind of bedtime story for all the babies here who might want one. My goal was to write something that sounded like an old fable, with some diaper content for good measure. I hope you enjoy! As always, questions and comments are wonderful. The Fairies’ Gifts - by Selpharia Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a little village that sat on the edge of a forest. All of the people who lived in the village were very kind and good. The adults helped one another when they needed it, and the children all played happily together. And they all remembered to put out gifts for the fairies that lived in the forest, who made sure that the sun kept shining and the bushes were full of sweet red berries, and made the villagers clothes and shoes to keep warm in the cold, cold winter. And everyone was very happy. Everyone, that is, except Annabelle. Annabelle lived in the big stone house at the top of the hill. Her mama and papa had given her all she ever wanted, and everyone did whatever she said. She had toys that whistled and whirred, a pretty riding pony, and beautiful dresses made of silk and satin. But all that didn’t matter, Annabelle still wasn’t happy. She looked around her big stone house, at her toys that whistled and whirred, her pretty riding pony, and her beautiful dresses of silk and satin, and said, “This is not enough! I want more!” And so Annabelle tossed aside her toys and rode on her pony down to the village. When she got to the village, though, she saw all the gifts that the villagers had laid out for the fairies. For Sparkle, who made sure that the sun kept shining bright, the villagers had found a beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined. For Lychee, who kept the bushes full of sweet red berries, they wove a thimble-sized basket of golden straw to carry things in. For clever Cobble, who made them clothes and shoes to keep them warm in the cold, cold winter, they made a soft feathery cushion to rest on when she was tired from all that work. Annabelle looked at all these gifts and said to the villagers. “Why are you giving all these things to the fairies? I want them, and I am much more important than any fairy.” The villagers pleaded with Annabelle. “Miss, we can give you something else later, please don’t take the gifts for the fairies! Otherwise they’ll get angry, and who knows what they’ll do?” But Annabelle didn’t care. She grabbed up the beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined, the thimble-sized basket of golden straw to carry things in, and the feathery cushion to rest your head on, and brought them back to her big stone house on the hill. The villagers didn’t say anything. They were very upset, but they didn’t dare fight with Annabelle’s parents Later that night, the fairies came out of their forest, and saw the villagers beside themselves with sadness. “What’s the matter?” asked Sparkle, straightening her tiny red hat. “Is something wrong?” asked Lychee, smoothing her tiny green dress “It looks like something’s missing,” said Cobble, twirling her tiny brown coat “Oh fairies,” the villagers cried, “we’re so sorry! We had three lovely gifts for you, but Miss Annabelle took them away to her big stone house on the hill.” “Well then, that’s no problem.” said Sparkle. “Since she’s a big girl, we’ll just ask her nicely to return them.” said Lychee. “And then everything will be fine.” said Cobble. The fairies fluttered their wings and flew up to the big stone house on the hill. They squeezed their way under the door, and saw Annabelle sleeping right next to all the villagers’ lovely gifts. When the fairies came in, Annabelle woke up, and saw them standing there. But she wasn’t afraid, they barely came up to her ankle. “What are you doing here?” she asked angrily. “You stole our gifts!” said Sparkle “Please give them back!” said Lychee. “Or we’ll take something from you!” said Cobble. But Annabelle wouldn’t. “All these things are mine now” she said defiantly, “And there’s nothing you can do about it!” “We’ll see about that.” all three fairies said together. But before Annabelle could wonder what they meant, her eyes got heavy and she fell fast asleep in her big, soft bed. Annabelle woke up the next morning, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked around her big stone house and let out a gasp of surprise. The fairies’ gifts, the beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined, the thimble-sized basket of golden straw to carry things in, and the feathery pillow to rest your head on, every single one of them was twice the size they were the night before. But that wasn’t all. All her things that she loved so much had changed too. Her toys that whistled and whirred were replaced by wooden blocks, with letters of the alphabet painted on in bright, happy colors. And next to them was a rocking horse of cherry wood, whose blocky mane and tail looked just like the ones her pretty riding pony had. And last of all, her beautiful clothes of silk and satin were no more. Instead, a cornflower-blue cotton dress, with frilly lace and puffy sleeves, hung in her open dresser. Annabelle scowled a deep, deep scowl, and kicked her her suddenly teeny tiny feet in a terrible tantrum. “How could those stupid little fairies do this to me?” she shrieked. “I’ll teach them not to take my precious things!” She put on her frilly new clothes with a pout, and kicked the rest of her toys out of her way in a huff. Then, she stormed out of her big stone house and started to make her way down the hill to the village. But she was so small now that it was hard going. By the time she made it halfway down the hill, she was all tuckered out. In fact, the only reason she made it to the village at all, was that One of her maids, a sweet girl named Cecily, saw Annabelle toddling along and offered her a hand. “Little Miss Annabelle!”’ she exclaimed. “It’s dangerous for little girls like you to go into the village alone. I’ll go with you, and make sure you stay safe.” “How dare you?” Annabelle replied, glowering the kind of glower that only a little girl subject to the worst of tyrannies, like bathtimes or bedtimes, or no-dessert times, could muster. “I am not a little girl! I am very big, and can walk as far as I want, all by myself!” She stomped off again pridefully, while Cecily let out a little sigh and followed, looking knowingly at her little mistress. Soon enough, Annabelle was so tired that she had no choice but to command Cecily to carry her the rest of the way. “I’m tired. I can walk myself, but I want you to carry me now,” she demanded. Cecily certainly couldn’t refuse without getting in trouble, so she picked up the mistress in her arms, and they entered the village with a sleepy Annabelle cuddled against her maid’s white smock. When they entered the village, though, Annabelle was woken right up by the sound of music. The villagers were playing bright and happy songs to thank the fairies for all that they did. For Sparkle, who made sure that the sun kept shining bright, they played a big brass horn that went “bomp ba da bomp” For Lychee, who kept the bushes full of sweet red berries, they played a tight little drum that went “pat pata pat” And for clever Cobble, who made them clothes and shoes to keep them warm in the cold, cold winter, they played lovely wooden pipes that went “toot doodle oot.” Annabelle listened to all this music and said to the villagers, “Why are you playing all this music for the fairies?” I want you to play for me, and I’m far more important than any fairy.” The villagers pleaded with Annabelle, “Little Miss, we can play something else for you later, but don’t make us stop playing for the fairies. Otherwise, they’ll get angry, and who knows what they’ll do.” But Annabelle didn’t care. She yelled and stomped, until the villagers playing the big brass horn that went “bomp bada bomp,” the tight little drum that went “pat pata pat,” and the lovely wooden pipes that went “toot doodle oot,” agreed to play for her. They played for hours and hours, until they were so tired they couldn’t play anymore. Finally, Annabelle was satisfied, and commanded Cecily to bring her back to her big stone house on the hill. The villagers didn’t say anything. They were very upset, but they didn’t dare fight with Annabelle’s parents. Later that night, the fairies came out of the forest, and saw the villagers beside themselves with sadness. “What’s the matter?” asked Sparkle, straightening her tiny red hat. “Is something wrong?” asked Lychee, smoothing her tiny green dress. “Sounds like something’s missing,” said Cobble, twirling her tiny brown coat. “Oh fairies,” the villagers cried “We’re so sorry! We had three wonderful instruments to play beautiful music for you. But Little Miss Annabelle made us play for hours and hours, until we were so tired we couldn’t play anymore. Then she went back to her big stone house on the hill.” “Well then, that’s no problem,” said Sparkle. “Since she’s a little girl, we’ll just ask her to play with us instead,” said Lychee. “And then everything will be fine,” said Cobble. The fairies fluttered their wings and flew up to the big stone house on the hill. They squeezed their way under the door, and saw Annabelle sleeping right next to a pile of the villagers’ lovely gifts, murmuring snatches of the beautiful music that the villagers had meant for them. When the fairies came in, Annabelle woke up, and saw them standing there. But she wasn’t afraid, they barely came up to her waist. “What are you doing here?” she asked angrily. “You stole our music!” said Sparkle. “Please play with us instead!” said Lychee. “Or we’ll take something from you!” said Cobble. But Annabelle wouldn’t. “All that music is mine now,” she said defiantly. “And there’s nothing you can do about it!” “We’ll see about that,” all three fairies said together. But before Annabelle could wonder what they meant, her eyes got heavy and she fell fast asleep in her big, soft bed. Annabelle woke up the next morning and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked around her big stone house and let out a wail of distress. The fairies’ gifts, the beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined, the thimble-sized basket of golden straw to carry things in, and the feathery pillow to rest your head on, every single one of them was twice as big as they were the night before. But that wasn’t all. All her things that she loved so much had changed too. Her toys that whistled and whirred had changed again. Instead of wooden blocks with letters of the alphabet painted on in bright, happy letters, there was a white pacifier, its front shaped like a cheerful butterfly. Beside it was a rattly rattle with rings on the end. And next to them sat a plush horse with a squishy body whose mane and tail looked like the mane and tail her pretty riding pony had. Her beautiful clothes of silk and satin were still the cornflower blue cotton dress with frilly lace and puffy sleeves. But now a matching bonnet had joined the pile, along with the unmistakable cloud-white cloth of a diaper. What’s more, her big soft bed had become a crib, with bars so big she could barely peek over. Annabelle scowled a deep deep scowl, and kicked her suddenly teenier, tinier feet in a terrible tantrum. “Dumb fairies! This is no fair! No fair!” She screamed and cried until Cecily came rushing in. Her maid was so much taller than she’d been yesterday. She towered over Annabelle, and plucked her from her crib with ease. Cecily held Annabelle as effortlessly as she held a stack of dishes. “Baby Annabelle, what’s wrong?” Cecily cooed. “Not a baby!” Annabelle whined in protest. Her whine became an indignant shriek as Cecily stuck two cold fingers down the back of her diaper. “I knew it, somebody’s cranky because she’s a wet little miss, isn’t she?” the maid said in a singsong voice. Only after Cecily mentioned it did Annabelle realize how soggy and saggy her diaper was. But how could a big girl like she was possibly not have noticed? Surely this was the fairies’ fault too. But there was no way such tiny fairies could have such powerful magic, was there? This thought distracted her so much that she forgot to fuss as Cecily brought her to a changing table, (which Annabelle was sure had been a desk recently) removed her wet diaper and wiped her clean. Annabelle only noticed what had happened after her maid had finished pinning on her fresh new diaper. It really did feel much better, and immediately, she knew what she had to do. “I wanna go to the village!” she announced. She tried to wriggle free of Cecily’s grasp, but she couldn’t. “All right, baby girl,” Cecily said. “Let’s get you in your pram, and we’ll go for a walk.” “No!” Annabelle yelled, her face turning cherry red. “I wanna walk myself!” “Maybe when you’re older, cutie pie.”’ Cecily paid no heed to Annabelle’s defiant cries, and ignored her as she flailed her little feet. Soon, Annabelle found herself riding in the stroller down the hill to the village. It trundled along, rattling just a little at every bump in the road. Annabelle was still very angry, especially at those awful fairies, but the gentle motion of her pram quickly lulled her back to sleep. When they got to the village though, Annabelle was woken right up by the smell of baking. The villagers had made fresh, delicious pies to thank the fairies for all that they did. For Sparkle, who made sure that the sun kept shining bright, they baked an apple pie with the crispest apples they had ever grown. For Lychee, who kept the bushes full of sweet red berries, they baked a lemon pie with cream that was the fluffiest they had ever whipped. For Cobble who made them clothes and shoes to keep them warm in the cold, cold winter, they baked a pecan pie, with molasses that was the ooeyest, gooeyest molasses they had ever made. But Annabelle smelled all these delicious pies and said to the villagers, “ Don’t give any yummy pies to the fairies. Mine!” The villagers pleaded with Annabelle. “Baby girl, we can make something else yummy for you later. But don’t eat the pies we baked for the fairies. Otherwise, they’ll get angry, and who knows what they’ll do?” But Annabelle didn’t care. She leapt out of the pram, and used her bare hands to take a big scoop right out of all three pies. She took from the apple pie, with the apples that were the freshest they’d ever grown, from the lemon pie with the cream that was the fluffiest they’d ever whipped, and the pecan pie with the ooeyest, gooeyest molassses they’d ever made. She stuffed heaping helpings of each into her mouth, so big that she couldn’t fit them all at once. By the time she was done, her mouth was covered in sticky crumbs. When Annabelle was finally satisfied, she ordered Cecily to take her back to her big house on the hill. The villagers didn’t say anything. They were very upset, but they didn’t dare fight with Annabelle’s parents. Later that night, the fairies came out of the forest, and saw the villagers beside themselves with sadness. “What’s the matter?” asked Sparkle, straightening her tiny red hat. “Is something wrong?” asked Lychee, smoothing her tiny green dress. “Smells like something’s missing,” said Cobble, twirling her tiny brown coat. “Oh fairies,” the villagers cried, “we’re so sorry! We had three delicious pies for you to eat. But Baby Annabelle came and gobbled them all up. Then she went back to her big stone house on the hill.” “Well, that’s no problem,” said Sparkle. “Since she’s just a baby, we’ll ask her to say sorry,” said Lychee. “And then everything will be fine,” said Cobble. The fairies fluttered their wings and flew up to the big stone house on the hill. They squeezed their way under the door, and found Annabelle asleep next to a pile of the villagers’ lovely gifts, pacifier in her mouth, and her tummy full of the pies the villagers had meant for them. When the fairies came in, Annabelle woke up and saw them standing there. This time, she was a little afraid. They were all now as tall as she was. “Go away!” Annnabelle said angrily, spitting out her binky. “You stole our pies!” said Sparkle. “Please say you’re sorry!” said Lychee. “Or we’ll take something from you!” said Cobble. But Annabelle wouldn’t. “All my pies. Nyah-Nyah!” she said defiantly, sticking out her tongue. “We’ll see about that,” all three fairies said together. But before Annabelle could wonder what they meant, her eyes got heavy and she fell asleep in her big, soft crib. The next morning, Annabelle woke up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She was no longer in her big stone house on the hill. Instead, she found herself on a bed of soft ferns, in the middle of a mushroom circle deep in the forest. Annabelle was about to cry, but before she could, Sparkle put a binky that sparkled and shined in her mouth. The fairy was as tall as Cecily had been yesterday. “There there, baby, don’t cry,” said Sparkle. “We’ll take good care of you,” said Lychee. She popped one of her sweet red berries in Annabelle’s hands. “And we’ll do a better job than those silly humans did. No more being such a spoiled brat” finished Cobble, with a playful swat at Annabelle’s padded behind. She pulled a dress made of gossamer and dew over Annabelle’s puffy diaper, and sprinkled a bit of magic dust on her forehead. The fairies set about their work, making sure the sun kept shining bright, keeping the bushes full of sweet red berries, and making clothes and shoes to keep the villagers warm in the cold, cold winter. As they did, Annabelle floated along happily behind them, giggling. And as the years went by, Annabelle stayed under the fairies’ firm but loving care. She never got quite as big as the fairies, and they still treated her like their little baby. But once she got big enough, the fairies let her help them with their work. Shine let Annabelle hold her beautiful red stone that sparkled and shined, so she could tell exactly where to put the sun in the morning by how the light bounced off it. Lychee let Annabelle hold her thimble-sized basket of golden straw where she kept the sweet red berries for the bushes. And with Annabelle’s help, Cobble made better clothes and shoes than ever before. To the fairies’ surprise, Annabelle was glad to do all these things. They made her feel important, and she liked seeing her mommies happy. When they all went out of the forest to receive gifts, none of the villagers recognized that the baby fairy was Annabelle. They called her Crinkle after the sound she made as she zipped through the air with her three fairy mommies, and were always delighted to see her. And so, finally, everyone in the small village and the forest was happy. Especially Annabelle. The End

I'll definitely see if I can find a way to do ranked preference voting after Issue 3!

As promised, here's the post-Issue 2 favorite character poll! http://www.strawpoll.me/14717268 It would mean so much to me if you answered it. It's only one question, and it doesn't require an account or anything. Thank you all so much for reading!

So, first, thank you both for your compliments, they mean so much to me! Seriously, I’m over the moon to make something that people enjoy enough to comment on. Also, yes, I noticed Angel Hunter’s similarity to Val. I would like to be Faerie Princess, if you’re dispensing titles. I’ve little interest in ruling over humans, but blending cuteness and mischief in an upside-down, inscrutable way is my jam. As Sophie hypothesized, I write mainly female characters because I am very gay, and want to do more of that girl love writing. But I also wanted to flip the gender dynamics of superhero genre stories. So not only making the female characters awesome, but also freeing them from the requirement that they fulfill male fantasies. Some still do, but a lot of them are intended to just be normal women and enbys with.extraordinary abilities. There will be male characters, and I want them to be fully realized people, but the spotlight will always be on the female characters and their stories. I’ll spoil a bit and say that there will be a major antagonist in Issue 4 who is male, and we’ll certainly see other male characters besides dads and teachers, maybe in the next Interlude or two In universe, there was actuSlly a deliberate move to feminize law enforcement, especially meta human law enforcement. There were a lot of theories about how reducing the total amount of testosterone in law enforcement would reduce collateral damage, and improve community outreach. Also, since Voidwalker gender came up, I figured I’d mention that they have “biological” sex after a fashion, and can reproduce. They have no childhood to speak of; knowledge is transferred during the process of procreation. But all of them begin their lives “male,” that is, unable to produce offspring, and switch to “females” who can reproduce with other females” after a year or two of life. Star Wardens operate similarly. Also, that 2% AB figure might just increase soon

I’m glad you’re excited! A few people have asked me not to use cliffhangers quite so often as in the early chapters, so I try to get good mileage out of the ones I do use. In defense of the Stalwart Six, Quantum Sonata’s power is difficult to detect by conventional means if you’re not a Voidwalker, and she made them a pretty incredible offer. So as strange as it may have felt, they had a lot of reasons to minimize any uneasiness. Also they’re a team of twenty-somethings, not actually that much older than Bridget, even though to her they seem so much older. But yes, they can definitely be thick sometimes. We may also get a chance to see more of their thinking in an upcoming Interlude, just maybe

Here's the conclusion of Of Capes, Cowls, and Cuddles Issue 2: Power in All Its Forms. I want ti thank everyone who's read this far, and especially everyone who's commented with thoughts, questions,corrections, or images of my hat being stolen. As was the case with Issue 1, there will be an Interlude or two checking in on other characters in the story besides Bridget before we go into the next issue. There will also be a poll asking about people's favorite character as of the end of Issue 2, and it would mean so much to me if people who read and enjoy this story would vote. I won't promise anything, but I certainly did think about the results of the Issue 1 poll when I was planning the rest of the story. Lastly, I'd like to give a shout-out to my wonderful sister, who has helped me immeasurably by being my editor, sounding-board, and the mind behind some of the neatest things in this story (like Stell!). It's no exaggeration to say that without her, this story would be much shorter, much worse and much further behind schedule. The events of these last three Gala chapters were some of the earliest scenes we worked on together, and it's amazing to me that we made it fa enough that you all can enjoy them. And I certainly hope that you do Now, without further ado, I present, Issue 2: Chapter 12 Part 3: Chief Executive Bridget followed behind Stell and her escorts as stealthily as she could, dodging between gaggles of well-dressed attendees, and stopping to take some hors d'oeuvres from a passing server, while keeping her eyes trained on her quarry. She managed to creep her way back into earshot just as Sonia Quentin was finishing her pitch to Leanne. “-so, as you can see, a partnership with Vector would remove all practical limitations on your technical capabilities, and provide a vehicle for a vast expansion of the Stalwart Six's budget. In exchange for some minor assistance in materials testing and your participation in a few public relations events, of course.” Leanne rested her chin on her hand thoughtfully, then sighed. “I'll need to confer with the rest of the team, if you could give us a few moments,” she replied evenly, her face impassive. “Certainly.” As she backed a few paces away from Leanne, and let Isis past to go collect Kendra, Sonia Quentin looked over her shoulder, and her eyes locked with Bridget's. But the executive's imperious stare was changed, replaced by something dark and inhuman. They had become two pulsing black pools, as though the white and iris had been swallowed up by her pupils. Bridget wanted to look away, but could only stand there transfixed, as they pulled her in to be devoured by their emptiness. <<Well, what have we here, little flesh thing? Your scent and your sound are incongruous. The Void resounds in you, but you are not mine.>> Bridget heard the psychic voice of the creature that wore Sonia's skin. It was soft, but the feminine hiss of its whispers was full of menace. <<Flesh>> <<Scent>> <<Sound>> The words rang through her head more insistently than Val's did; their echoes refusing to release their hold on her mind. “So, does this mean Vector will pay our tuition and everything?” Ms. Quentin's head toward Sami to answer in the affirmative, and Bridget was no longer trapped woman's terrible gaze. She shook her head, trying to clear the image out of her mind. She was amazed that no one else had reacted to the horrible display. Surely, even if she was the only one who could hear the Voidwalker's voice, other people had to have noticed the eyes. But no one else had let out even a gasp of surprise, and nearly everyone was carrying on their conversations as though an alien horror had not just announced its presence. Phoebe was the only exception; she tilted her head, as though her superhuman ears had picked up a sudden sound, but she stayed silent, her face covered and unreadable, and after a moment, she turned back to her teammates. Val, what do I do? Bridget thought frantically, rooted to the spot a table's length away from the alien she couldn't get out of her head. But it wasn't the familiar brusqueness of Val's voice that she heard. <<Tell me, little spawn. Do you carry my scientist in your brain? Or is it just her corpse, the strangled refrain of her essence, that lets you see the truth beyond your little world of meat?>> <<Spawn>> <<Strangled>> <Little o...> The sound of the stranger pounded at her head, but she could just barely hear distant snatches of Val's voice over the psychic gale that buffeted her. <-don't...do any...> Val faded in and out like a signal from a bad radio. <<Corpse>> <<Brain>> <...react> As Bridget fought to clear her head, she saw that Kendra had returned, and had joined the negotiation. “Could you show us the exact wording? I'd like to run some calculations.” Bridget staggered forward a few steps, hoping that Sonia would be distracted enough that she could get closer, even though the primeval part of her brain screamed at her to run from the monster, to hide in a closet somewhere until it found something else to devour. The executive turned her head, but it was only to issue a command to her subordinate. “Show them the terms,” she ordered curtly. “Of course, miss,” came the woman's reply. Her voice was high and sharp, but there was an utter fanaticism in even that short statement that made the hair on the back of Bridget's neck prick up. The secretary reached for her tablet, and began poking at it, but Bridget didn't see what happened after that. Instead, the eerily familiar voice of the secretary brought forth a sudden memory, and in a flash of Val's purple energy, she found herself in a dark passageway, its metal walls illuminated only by a sliver of violet light from behind her. She looked down at herself, and after another flash and burst of static, saw arcs and tendrils of dim Voidwalker energy where her body ought to have been. She recognized the passage as the one in Val's memory of the death of Echo. But before she could finish orienting herself or figuring out what Val had wanted to show her, there was another burst of static, then the all-too-familiar human voice of Discordant Aria, her words punctuated by the clang of her high heels on the laboratory's metal floor. “Cadenza! I know you're here somewhere, you worthless cloud-worm!” she bellowed. With a start, Bridget realized that her voice was the voice of Sonia Quentin's assistant, save that in her guise as a secretary, her words lacked the venom and hatred that she now hurled at her nemesis. Val kept moving, and didn't respond as she glided down the passage, which plunged into total darkness as soon as she turned a corner. With each new burst of static, Bridget could feel Aria's words getting further and further away. Aria too, must have realized that her quarry had eluded her. There was no more sound of heeled footsteps, and her parting shot sounded as though it came from far off, though its malice was undiminished. “I swear, Cadenza! I will hunt you to the ends of the universe! And when I find you, it will be my hand that forces you to answer for your foul sedition against Quantum Sonata, Warmistress of the Voidwalkers!” Suddenly, Val stopped short as the passageway came to an abrupt dead end, and the scene dissolved again into static. An instant later, Bridget found herself back in Shelby Hall, staring directly at what she now knew was the human disguise of the being whose dearest ambition was to devour the whole world. Aria's reverence for Sonia Quentin, and the sheer power that Vector's CEO wielded were clear evidence that she couldn't be anyone other than the Warmistress herself. As Bridget stood there, she was suddenly struck by the utter futility of resisting this ancient galactic monster. As if to underscore the point, the voice of Quantum Sonata assaulted her mind once more. <<No response, little spawn?>> the Warmistress asked. <<Well, then, perhaps the best way to discover what you are, is to find out what happens when I squeeze.>> <<Squeeze>> <She ca...> Val's voice was a whisper, hovering on the edge of silence. <<Squeeze>> Bridget felt a sudden, crushing pressure in her chest. She tried to take a breath, but she felt only a burning pain, and a sensation as though someone had clamped her lungs in a vice that refused to let them expand. She tried again and again, but the pain only worsened, as her body cried out for air that it couldn't receive. Val! Val! Bridget thought frantically. What do I do? Help me! She tried to reach for the warmth of Val's presence, but she found only the scantest trickle where an ocean ought to be. Bridget felt tears burning in her eyes, but she looked defiantly at Quantum Sonata nonetheless. She hoped against hope that the shape of her energy signature might offer some way to escape. But it only conformed just how doomed she was. A tendril of blackness was burrowed into Bridget's chest, tying her like a disobedient dog to Sonia Quentin's right hand. No, no no no no no! Bridget tried to retreat, hoping to block the energy with one of the tables of guests, putting some life energy in the path of the gravitic tentacle that was slowly suffocating her. But it was no use. It followed her as naturally and easily as water flowing into the sea, altering its course without offering a moment's respite. <<Pitiful. I thought I had found something of value. But you are nothing at all, just an errant spark to extinguish. Farewell.>> <<Nothing>> <<Extinguish>> The world around Bridget began to blur, and blackness began to eat away at the edges of her vision. She could barely make out Sonia Quentin, contract in hand, proffering the agreement for Leanne's final inspection. The rest of the Stalwart Six mumbled among themselves, but Leanne was about to put pen to paper, and condemn her team, and everyone on the planet, to the service of the Warmistress. Bridget had no clever ideas, no plan, or no final trick left up her sleeve.. Val might have, but the voice of the Warmistress overpowered the last strains of her voice as Bridget suffocated. Her thoughts grew fuzzy, and it was harder and harder to hold them together; as fast as she could think them, they slipped out of her grasp. The only thing she knew was that she had to do something, and that something couldn't be using her powers. At that moment, as the blackness filled more and more of her vision, she saw Leanne lift the pen, and she acted on her oxygen deprived-brain's first and most basic instinct. Shielding her eyes from Quantum Sonata's terrible gaze with her right arm, she used all the strength she had left to charge directly toward the Warmistress and the leader of the Stalwart Six. “FUCK NO!” She wheezed out the last of the air in her lungs as she tried to elbow the Warmistress with her right arm and grab at the contract with her left. There were eight simultaneous gasps as the heroines and the Voidwalkers all stared at her in shock. But this final effort was too much for Bridget in her weakened state. Her wild grab missed its target, and her blind rush sent her careening into the table. It was an impressive, expensive table, made from mahogany and covered in a hand-woven white cloth, more expensive and higher-class than anything Bridget would ever own. But, well made as it was, it couldn't withstand the sudden addition of Bridget's weight on one end, and so, with a slow, creaking groan of protest, it began to fall. The motion sent the contract, the tablecloth, the table, and Bridget collapsing to the floor with a cacophonous crash, right where Quantum Sonata stood, eagerly awaiting her victory. Sonia Quentin staggered and buckled under the weight of the impact, and Bridget felt her lungs fill again with giant gulps of air. For a moment, the room fell completely silent, so that the only thing she heard was a terrified cry of <<Little one!>> that sounded in Bridget's head. Then, all at once, the room erupted into chaos. END OF ISSUE 2

Thank you so much for the compliment, kerry. We'll see how bad this really turns out to be for poor Bridget. Here's the second of the three parts, with one more that you'll get to read tomorrow. As always, questions and comments are wonderful. Incidentally, I have the full speech that Leanne gave, but Bridget wasn't paying much attention to. I could post it, if anyone would be interested. For now, however, here's the next part Issue 2: Chapter 12 Part 2: Unusual Suspects Leanne concluded her speech, thanking the whole team, and the whole room applauded while the Stalwart Six descended from the stage and back toward their table. The silence of the room was broken as many side conversations began at once, and people got up and began milling about. “Nice job, oh fearless leader,” Isis congratulated, as they resumed their seats. “All the stuffy society people really ate that up.” There was a chorus of assent from the other team members. “Well, thank you. I did try to fit the tastes of the audience,” she replied with an uncharacteristically impish smirk. “I assume, dear, that you'll be engaging your standard protocol for events like this.” “Yep!” Isis said cheerfully, shifting to her cat form in a blink. She let out an excited mew, and streaked off in the direction of the hors d'oeuvres. “Um, Leanne?” Stell asked uncertainly. “I think I'll go mingle. There's...someone I want to talk to.” She nodded her had in the direction of the VIP table. “Certainly. It's good to get used to socializing at events like this. That goes for all of you of course,” she said, surveying the team. “You're welcome to stay here and field questions for the team with me, or do whatever you like. If there's a problem, just give the signal, and Isis will be there to give you an out.” <<Now, little one, the real work begins. Let's->> Tail the Star Warden? Bridget finished for her. <<Indeed.>> Bridget waited a few seconds, then got up and followed Stell, swerving only to avoid passing by the table where her parents sat, and the death glare her mother was no doubt sending her way for her earlier breach of decorum. Bridget did her best to look innocuous, as she made her way quietly to the VIP table, carefully making sure that Sami was too caught up in conversation with some older heroes to notice or complain that she wasn't with the rest of the family. As she sidled closer, she could hear the garish butterfly-woman engaged in loud, spirited discussion with her white haired male neighbor. The bubbling, transatlantic-accented torrent of her chatter carried through the air in a self-involved stream of conversation, ostensibly directed at one person, but performed for all to hear. “...they're just so DRAB, Karl. They might as well just hang TOWELS over their shoulder and flap them around in the breeze! I mean, look at that girl over there; precious thing, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as a little squirrel. And quite frankly, squirrel pelt would be at least SOMEthing original about her. Star theme, bright colors, form-fitting tights. I'm feeling my wits dull just looking at that travesty of a Soviet reject.” The woman lifted a hand with turquoise nails to point to the table where Sami was waiting to talk to an elderly man with short-cropped salt and pepper hair, and the twin scale emblem of the League of Virtue on his chest. Bridget barely restrained a giggle. I changed my mind. I like this lady, she thought to Val. <<Stay focused little one,>> Val admonished. <<Don't let yourself be distracted from our vital mission by petty personal concerns.>> “You see, Karl?” the woman continued. “This young lady's costume is fanTASTically daring. As she turned away from Sami in disgust, er eyes fell on Stell, who had wandered nearby. “There's so little here, but it says so much! Clearly THIS one at least was designed by someone with half a brain!” She reached out to grab a pinch of the blue material of Stell's costume and run it through her fingers. “In fact, I'd even say it has some of the hallmarks of my own ingenious design!” She clicked her tongue as she looked Stell up and down. “Yes, yes, all the BRILLiant Cecelia Aster trademarks are here. A bare midriff to display a raw, eleMENtal power, an excellent choice of contrasting colors, no cape to ravage the unity of theme, and a skirt to keep a touch of femininity in the midst of battle! Surely one of my students gave form to this masterpiece!” “Um, actually Ms. Aster,” Stell said awkwardly, “I designed all the uniforms for our team. I've been a fan of your designs for ages though.” <<A likely story, glow worm,>> Val scoffed. Cecelia Aster, however, was much more easily swayed by Stell's attempt at flattery. “Oh, but of course you are, darling! Tell me, which team do you design for, dear? You seem a little green to be designing for the League of Virtue.” “Oh, um, the Stalwart Six?” Cecelia Aster paused for a moment, one finger on the side of her cheek, as though she was having trouble remembering. Seriously lady? Bridget thought, indignation welling up on Stell's behalf despite herself as her opinion reversed in an instant. How can you be so self-centered that you don't even remember the name of the group the gala you're at is for? After a few long seconds, the bombastic fashionista was able to remember something, at least. “Ah yes, of course! So you were the ones to dispense justice to that terrible Dreadnought character, and spare us all the agony of his atrocious bronze pauldrons,” she said, her face scrunched up in disgust. “Well, that's certainly an act of heroism for which we should all feel the most profound gratitude. Don't you agree, Sonia?” Ms. Aster turned expectantly to a woman in a sharp black pantsuit with meticulously polished golden buttons who was diagonally across from her, who was looking intently at her tablet. What Bridget could see of her face from the side was dominated by the swirl of her straight-cut mod hairdo, visible only for a moment as she looked up long enough to reply with a dry and perfunctory “Indeed.” Having engaged in the minimum required degree of politeness, Sonia returned to her reading material. She paid no attention to the scowl that had formed on Cecelia Aster's face as the consummate socialite realized with a huff that she had been summarily blown off like some half-witted debutante. “Well! I am sure what Ms. Quentin meant to say was-” Cecelia Aster began, shooting Sonia a reproachful look. “Estella Annabelle Roarke.” Ms. Quentin interrupted, her voice a steely monotone. “I have a query to pose to you.” “Um, I- okay?” Stell was obviously taken aback by the use of her full name. “Why are you out on the front lines in the city's battle against criminality? Those in Ms. Aster's profession seldom have much taste for warfare.” “Oh. Well, I was out with kendra on a routine patrol to test her new equipment when things suddenly went south, and no one else could get to us in time. And I had never figured that I would make much of a fighter, but I turned out to be better at it than I expected.” “Better than you expected? What precisely do you mean by that?” Ms. Quentin's mouth was a straight line, and the piercing look she gave Stell made it clear that she found the heroine's vagueness both intriguing and suspicious. <<Finally, someone in this city has the sense to be suspicious of a being who can construct anything out of light and has the combat prowess of a fully-trained commando, but purports to be a mere stripling artist.>> “Still, to fight many meta-human criminals at once by yourself is no small feat, especially untrained. Did you have some power that enabled you to prevail?” “Well, I have my power that's kinda...” she paused for a moment thoughtfully, “in my skin, and it makes me pretty hard to hurt when I'm in my star form.” Stell breathed in, and suddenly her skin glowed with a light that stung Bridget's eyes as it flared, and looked as though it were sheathed in millions of shining crystals. Val let out a mental yelp of surprise, and the sheer shock of her passenger's sudden emotion made her flinch backward. Sonia did the same, and it took her a moment to regain her composure. Ms. Aster, meanwhile, positively squealed with delight. MagNIficent, darling! Why, if you could incorporate a feature like that into your designs, you could become truly legendary!” “Oh!” Stell said, “That would be amazing, but I can't really do it for other people. Even if I were to encase them in my shooting stars, they'd fade as soon as I stopped concentrating on them.” To emphasize the point, she let her star form drop, and in a moment, her light faded. Sonia Quentin pursed her lips thoughtfully, then spoke. “Ms. Roarke, I find your abilities quite intriguing. Scientific research is never a certain endeavor, but I believe, if you would be favorable, my company and I could help you develop your powers to achieve the level of permanence that would be necessary to augment others in a similar fashion.” She handed Stell her business card. Ms. Aster nodded encouragingly. “It's quite the opportunity, darling! It would certainly bolster your curriculum vitae.” “Thanks, I -” Stell began, then did a double-take as she looked down at the card. “Wait, you're the CEO of Vector? THE Vector?” “Indeed,” Sonia said, dryly. “B-But this is amazing!” Stell sputtered. “I think it will be quite the mutually beneficial arrangement, and will enable both of us to learn much.” She gave Stell the same steely stare from before; it made Bridget quail a little just from being in its line of fire as she stood behind the sparkly heroine. “In fact, if you would be amenable...I had considered offering Vector's sponsorship to your entire team. Do you think you could prevail upon Ms. Shelby to see the wisdom of such a move?” “I...well, I can certainly try,” Stell said brightly, betraying a tiny quaver of uncertainty in her voice as she did. “Splendid. These contracts are fairly standard, but I'll have my assistant retrieve the details.” She snapped her fingers imperiously. Then, a woman in a bright red dress and black stockings, her hair in a tight, high ponytail emerged silently from thin air barely a foot to the left of Bridget, holding a massive suitcase that must have weighed forty pounds in one hand. She strode, heels clacking on the floor, to stand behind and to the right of her superior. <<WHAT?>> Val gasped. <<How did she-?>> Bridget herself nearly shot straight up in the air in surprise, but just barely managed to hold her composure, as Val found hers again. <<Quickly, little one! Look at her energy signature!>> Val commanded, and Bridget hurried to obey, feeling the rush of Val's power into her eyes. Sure enough, as Bridget looked at Ms. Quentin's assistant, she was surrounded two overlapping auras of dark energy. The first was the same massive concentration she'd seen from afar, but the second clearly radiated out from the center of the woman's body. <<B-but that shouldn't be possible. I am the Chief Science Officer of the Void Fleet! There's no way some random flunky could have eluded my-our senses.>> But she was invisible, maybe that- <<We should still have been able to see through it!>> Val snapped. The Voidwalker and the executive, however, did not give Val the time to deduce why the impossible had happened. “Well, Ms. Roarke?” Sonia gestured to the table where Leanne sat, surrounded by a gaggle of other party guests, with Isis perched on her shoulder, nose deep in a deviled egg. Phoebe stood nearby, idly running a hand through Isis's fur, observing everything through blindfolded eyes and well-honed ears. “Shall we?” Stell nodded her assent, and the trio rose and headed in the same direction. She took the lead, Ms. Quentin followed behind, and her assistant walked in her shadow. <<If we let the Voidwalkers get their tentacles into the Stalwart Six, there's no way we'll be able to persuade them to our side; they'll all be attuned before long.>> Yeah, but what are we going to do about it? It's not like they'll believe us if we tell the truth. <<Don't worry, little one. I'll think of something.>> -

So, I'm happy to announce that the next three days (Dec 24-260 will have a chapter-length piece released each day, leading up to the end of Issue 2 Thank you, everyone for bearing with me. I've been so excited to get to this point and share it with you all. I'm grateful beyond words for all my readers and comments, and look forward to beinging you more of Bridget's adventures, as well as some new stuff, in the new year. As always, questions and comments are welcome, and start thinking of your favorite chgaracter, because we're going to have another poll at the end (Yay voting!) Without further ado, here's Issue 2: Chapter 12 Part 1: The Gala “Come on, Sami, give her a break,” Stell cut in, frowning at her teammate. “But- Dean Takeda's-” Sami sputtered. “She's up on stage, so she doesn't need a seat, it's fine.” With a sigh, Sami relented. Bridget's cheeks just got redder, and she wished in that moment that she could just use her powers to disappear. But Stell, at least, didn't seem to mind; she gave Bridget a small smile, and turned her gaze back to the speaker. If the gesture was intended to be calming, it had exactly the opposite effect on Val. <<What's your game, glow-worm? Don't think we'll buy your facile display of kindness, even for a second,>> she muttered. Bridget, meanwhile, took advantage of the lull in conversation to get a good look around the table at the rare sight of the Stalwart Six decked out in their finest. Leanne had replaced her functional, insulating bodysuit and its practical black for the crisp, pressed blue of a military dress uniform. It had no rank or insignia, save a pin in the shape of a bronze eagle with an ornate crown, and the letters “RAF” beneath its outstretched wings. She leaned back, confident, and relaxed, so that the light glinted off the golden buckle in her white belt. Bridget felt an inexplicable desire to say something about it, but her tongue felt fat in her mouth, and all her usual wit just evaporated the second Leanne glanced her way with her piercing blue eyes. Her second-in-command, meanwhile, was expending considerably less effort to appear alert and attentive as the remarks droned on. Isis wore a strapless dress in forest green, and was idly fiddling with her silver cartouche necklace, and looking longingly toward the exit back out into the hall. She turned toward Stell, giving Bridget her first good look the single ankh-shaped bronze earring dangling from her right earlobe. “Hey Sparkle, you doing okay?” Isis asked her white haired teammate. “Our fearless leader told me you had a fly-in with Ironclad and her laser batteries earlier today.” Stell put her hand to her chin as she thought for a moment. “Oh, yeah,” she said distractedly. “She sure was a...something. I'm good, though.” <<The unmitigated gall of this Star Warden, showing off her powers like that, and bearing the emblem of her people so brazenly!>> Val fumed. Huh, what do you mean? Bridget asked, bemused by Val's sudden vitriol. <<She's using her power to turn her hair white, and that emblem on her chest is essentially the battle flag of the Luminous Princeps.>> Bridget had been too busy looking at Leanne to pay Stell's outfit much attention, but she looked again and saw what Val meant. The Stalwart Six's fashion designer had made herself a dark navy halter top, and a short matching skirt. The front of her top looked like a field of stars, a smattering of white dots, all dominated by a single large star with sharp points in each of the four cardinal directions, with four more points detached from the star's main body. The whole emblem looked like a cosmic compass rose. Oh. But why would she do that? Shouldn't she be trying to keep a low profile? <<Yes. But beings of pure luminous energy aren't usually much for subtlety or subterfuge.>> Bridget tried to puzzle out what Stell's purpose could be, but her train of thought was interrupted again by another question from Isis. “Still just the rockets and the light show, though, right?” Isis asked in an urgent whisper, “No soulreaper cannon or runic tracery on her armor ar anything?” “Nope. Just the same stuff as last time. I don't think Kimmy was helping her.” “Well, that's good at least.” Isis gave a soft sigh and slouched back in her chair. “Now that she's started ripping out people's souls for sheer fun, the last thing we need is her to be going around making friends.” As the Stalwart six comtinued their hushed discussion, an Asian woman in a dark suit, with black hair and bifocals, ascended the stage and began speaking. As she did, Sami leaned forward eagerly. “Leanne, we're on once Dean Takeda's done, right?” Sami asked. She tried to suppress it, but Bridget could hear the nervousness in her sister's voice. Her team leader gave a curt affirmative nod. The rest of the Stalwart Six remained resolute in ignoring the proceedings, continuing their review of their last mission. Kendra, clad in a sharp-looking maroon suit, was typing away on what looked like a smart phone. Knowing her, though, it was probably much smarter than the average device. “What I can't figure out,” she said, staring intently down at the screen, “is who the other person there that night could have been. Those two Hellbloods were talking about a kid.” Bridget barely managed to bring a hand up to her mouth in time to stifle a gasp, and turned away, trying desperately to find anything else to stare at besides the Six's tactician, and willing away the enormous lump that had abruptly formed in her throat. “That's probably Kimmy again,” Isis replied. “I have no idea why, but she loves pretending to be a kid for some reason.” Bridget let out a small sigh of relief, and turned back to the table, hoping that the blush in her cheeks wouldn't give her away. At this Phoebe let out a particularly unsubtle cough, and steepled her black gloved fingers. The black blindfold traced with silver runes over Phoebe's eyes made it difficult to read her facial expressions, but her irritation was obvious beneath it. “Well, whoever wrecked her diagrams had at least basic magical knowledge,” she pointed out, “and Kimmy doesn't seem a likely suspect.” “Maybe it was that Tenkai person,” Stell ventured. “She's young, and definitely likes the magician persona, so she probably knows at least some magic.” Bridget had no idea who Tenkai was, but in that moment, she was intensely grateful they existed. “What do you think, Leanne? You probably have it all figured out, right?” Sami asked, turning toward her leader expectantly. The brown on your nose really matches your uniform, sis. Leanne gave Sami a soft half-smile. “I wish I did. But I'm afraid we'll have to table this discussion, ladies-” At that moment, Leanne was interrupted by Dean Takeda, whose voice rose as she finished her speech with a sweeping gesture toward their table. “..., I present to you, The Stalwart Six!” she said dramatically. “-the stage awaits.” Leanne finished, rising to her feet and making her way toward the stage with a calm and poise that Bridget couldn't help but envy. The rest of the Six rose and fell in line behind her, with Isis second in line, with Stell, as the most junior member, bringing up the rear. <<Well, that was enlightening,>> Val said sarcastically. <<But at least from this distance we can finally get a good look at miss Star Warden up there without her noticing. Bridget, do you remember how we adjusted your sight when we fought Kimmy?>> Yeah, but, um, could you help me? Bridget asked hesitantly, a little ashamed that she hadn't thought to practice that earlier along with all her flying tricks. <<Of course, little one.>> Bridget closed her eyes for a moment, and felt the familiar warmth of Val's presence. <<Now then->> The mental sound of Val's voice suddenly stopped short in surprise. <<Well. That's decidedly not optimal.>> Bridget opened her eyes. Sure enough, the Stalwart Six and the crows of attendees glowed the same soft green that the Hellbloods had, full of life energy. Stell's body did the same, but in her case the green was intertwined with a piercing white glow, the same color as the shooting stars she conjured. But that wasn't what caught Bridget's eye as she looked toward the front of the room. Below the stage where Stell glimmered like a miniature star was the VIP seating area, a long, rectangular banquet table where the bigwigs of business, art, fashion, and finance enjoyed a front row view of the festivities. The entire twelve feet of it was engulfed by a vastsphere of energy that rose to touch the vaulted cathedral ceiling, and sunk down beneath the floor. It swirled and twisted as if it were a miniature world covered in swirling winds. The globe of power was so dark it was almost black, dotted with the tiniest hints of an all-too-familiar purple. <<Voidwalkers,>> Val pronounced gravely. That's a Voidwalker energy signature? It's massive! Bridget's mouth dropped open in disbelief. <<We'll need to investigate. At the very least, we need to find out who here is compromised. Once we know that, we can decide on our next move.>> Up om stage, heedless of the enormous sohere of darkness roiling below her, Leanne began to introduce each of her teammates in turn, describing their contributions in the battle against Dreadnought. Bridget listened long enough to hear about how Isis had “taken the battle to Dreadnought and his minions with unparalleled ferocity and cunning, lending her considerable magical might to the defense of the city,” before she tuned it out, trying as hard as she could to determine which of the people at the VIP table were secretly aliens, wearing human bodies like a set of living formal wear. She squinted and strained, until her eyes hurt, but the energy was so large that, even though, geometrically, it had to be one of the six people at the center, she was unable to determine the source. Five of them were clad in standard formal wear: black suits and ties, or black dresses that were obviously well made, but lacking in individual character. The sixth, however, seemed determined to make up for the drabness of her compatriots. Her dress was a sparkling blue, almost butterfly-like pattern, and her brown hair was done up in loose ringlets that would have made her look childish, if the blue of her eye shadow and the sharpness of her cats-eye makeup weren't so strikingly adult. All of her neighbors were dutifully observing the presentation, but she looked everywhere around the room freely, holding her chin in her hand, as though considering some deep conundrum. <<Well, we can eliminate her as a candidate. No Voidwalker would ever choose such a loud guise for an operation that requires subterfuge,>> Val opined smugly. Bridget was inclined to agree, but that didn't exactly leave them with anything to work with. She briefly considered the idea that all of them could be Voidwalkers, but Val nixed that idea quickly. <<Thankfully, no. Their individual signatures would be much more visible, unless they were actively working to combine them. In such a case, that effort would be obvious even to the humans around us. I'd say there are one or two at most. That said, they're incredibly strong.>>Val tried to keep her voice even and analytical, but Bridget could hear a touch of awe creep in as she concluded her evaluation. Bridget was about to ask Val what she thought they should do, when they were both distracted by a sudden change in the globe of energy. As Leanne finished describing Phoebe and the sonic bolstering she had done to allow the Stalwart Six to fight Dreadnought and his army of minions by themselves, a tendril of dark power extended from the globe, approached Phoebe, and bean to slowly and methodically sliding itself around her body, like the tentacle of a jellyfish grabbing onto a bit of jetsam, searching for a meal. Bridget watched, frozen, unsure of what to do, wanting to shout a warning to Phoebe, who just stood there, impassive as the alien energy writhed over her. Finally, after a few moments that felt like an eternity, the tendril retracted as she acknowledged the crowd's polite applause with a perfunctory nod. The relief that Bridget felt as the Voidwalkers left Phoebe alone was unfortunately short-lived. As soon as Leanne turned her attention to Sami, praising her valor in facing the mechanical monstrosity Dreadnought had piloted in single combat, the black tentacle resumed its work with a new target. This time, however, it was much bolder, and quickly slithered its way around the golden heroine, probing and prodding with certainty. It seemed impossible that Sami wouldn't notice, but whether she was too distracted by the arrival of her moment in the sun, or whether the tendril's phantom touch didn't register with her at all, Bridget couldn't tell. Sami just glowed with happiness, a tiny nimbus of golden light outlining her smiling face. There was only one heroine left to thank, and Stell stood awkwardly while Leanne recounted how she had single-handedly stopped Dreadnought from detonating a device that would have leveled half the city. Val, meanwhile, watched eagerly to see how the Voidwalkers would react to the presence of Stell's glowing-white alien power. But, surprisingly, there was nothing to watch. The gravitic tendril retracted into the dark sphere from which it came, and did not emerge again. <<Hah. Strong, but not so confident to pick a fight here and now. Perhaps my concerns were excessive after all,>> she said, with burgeoning confidence. <<Once these trivial formalities are over, we can continue our investigation in earnest. I'm certain that closer analysis will yield more useful results.>> - P.S. Please don't eat me

I’ve actually written about two chapters worth, but I want to release the Issue finale closer together than my usual schedule.

Yes, that is what’s going to happen! I’m working on it, sorry it’s taken awhile ;_;

I’m working on it! This next part is really important and it needs to be as close to perfect as I can make it! Also, Sophie, if you eat me you’ll get my hat and have to do the writing Also, sorry to hear that, Ellie, I hope things improve for you soon

I love this part! Of course, I also know the truth, but will never tell!

Sorry, taken

117, Cremonia 1644-1737, Val dissipates the heat, African or European?, yes, blue, mine for fish, she has Star Warden powers, I am, yes, the first

It is, a bit! I actually intended it do that the reader ends up feeling a bit of the discomfort and awkwardness that Bridget is feeling, knowing something is wrong and about to be more so. I’m glad to see it was still enagaing! Also, finally on page 2. Woo! Now, given how much I love answering questions, who knows what I might let slip if asked?

Thank you both! I'm glad the great forum Ragnarok didn't drive everyone away, and I really appreciate everyone's patience, which I can now reward with a new chapter! Issue 2: Chapter 11- Party of Two Val had called the space between the four obelisks a “medium-scale field,” but it was plenty big for Bridget to float around in, turning the tiniest hop into a magnificent and graceful leap. Adding her own powers to the mix, she could turn what was already the world's most scientifically-advanced bounce house into a stage for an impossible three-dimensional solo ballet. Outside the field, she hadn't messed much with rotational motion, since flying was already so difficult. But with the field reducing her resistance, and the padding as a reminder and guide to where she should put the force to keep herself aloft, it was easy to get lost in pirouettes and arabesques that would put any land-bound prima to shame. Bridget was quickly wrapped up in the thrill of flight, and found herself giggling with the sheer exhilaration of it. She rose, swooped and dove with abandon, a rustly crinkle marking each bounce and twirl. More than once, Val interrupted her gravitational acrobatics with a chiding, <<Careful, little one. I know you're excited to play, but we can't let you fall,>> as she careened too close to the outer limits of the field. This didn't bother Bridget much, though, easy flight within the violet walls was far too much fun, and Val seemed content to let her do what she wanted without nagging as long as she stayed away from the edge. The experience was far too enjoyable for Bridget to keep an accurate account of how much time had passed, but Val kept much more careful track. <<All right, sweetie, time to finish up,>> she declared, helping Bridget float gently to the ground after a particularly effervescent leap. <<That was excellent work, but we ought to return soon, or others may wonder where you've gone.>> “Awww, come on!” Bridget protested. “Just a little more?” <<Sorry, little miss, no more flight for today. It's good to see you so enthusiastic, but I'm afraid your physical form would be damaged and exhausted if we were to go longer.>> “That's ridiculous!” she retorted, determinedly ignoring her heavy breathing and the pounding headache that hours of power use had given her, but she'd been too distracted by playing to notice. <<Another day.>> Val's voice was calm, but insistent, and no further wheedling would persuade her to let Bridget access their shared powers. “Fiiiine,” she sighed, changing out of her rustling flight gear and back into her normal clothes. The cloth felt so strange after spending so much time in her flight gear, like she'd been running with weights around her ankles that had suddenly dropped off. She felt a twinge of regret that she had to leave their support and their snugness and the boost it provided to her aerial abilities behind, but the thought of being discovered with them on was too terrible to contemplate. Shaking her head at the errant thought, Bridget used the ring to summon the portal again, and stepped though. She emerged on the other side, back in her terribly ordinary, gravitationally uniform bedroom, just in time to hear the sound of footsteps and an impatient knock on her door. 'Bridget! Let's go! We were supposed to leave for your sister's gala fifteen minutes ago!” Her father called from the other side. “Ugh! Can't the whole town celebrate her without me?” “Bridget.” Her father's voice was suddenly quiet, all its volume turned to flinty sternness. “Be ready in five minutes, or we will have words.” His footsteps receded down the stairs. Crap! Of course tonight would be the one stupid Sami celebration I can't get out of. Bridget began rustling through her drawers and closets for an outfit she could pull together in her father's time limit, and that would pass muster at a formal event. The only clothes she had that met the qualifications and that hadn't found its way into one of the piles of already-worn outfits spread out on the floor was a light pink dress with black lace on the hem and sleeves. For a moment, it seemed like she would get off easy in the clothing department, but then she discovered why it was so pristine. The dress was just a bit too small for her, and try as she might to wriggle herself into it, it just wouldn't quite fit. “Ugh! Why am I so freaking fat?” she chastised herself under her breath. <<I do not think this is the case. Perhaps, I do not understand the ritualistic significance of this particular article that makes fitting into it the sole barometer of whether or not your weight is acceptable, but there is an alternative that you haven't considered. Okay, then, why don't you quit monologuing so smugly and tell me! <<I am a chief science officer, thank you very much, little miss.>> Val huffed, <<Monologuing is a privilege that comes with the position. They may take my work, they may ransack my lab, but they will never take my speeches!>> Bridget sighed. <<Now, as I was saying,>> Val began again unctuously, <<you could employ our powers to produce the proper force vectors to aid you in fitting your material form into that fabric wrapping, as it is unlikely that you will put significant strain on it once you pass the spatial bottleneck.>> Normally, Bridget would have rolled her eyes at Val's grandstanding over such a trivial matter. Coming up with a gravitic corset was hardly the kind of revolutionary research her passenger was so fond of. But, as irritating as self-satisfied Val could be, it was much better, Bridget thought, to have her that way, than distraught and inconsolable over the loss of her work. And sure enough, with a bit of Voidwalker energy to help her squeeze in, the dress fit well enough, even if her tummy felt uncomfortably tight. <<See, little one? Science triumphs again!>> Val crowed. Yeah, okay, you were right, Bridget admitted. But science is also lucky that I have a cardigan to cover the less attractive parts of its victory. She glared balefully down at where the protruding outline of her belly was visible beneath the fabric, then floated a black cardigan over and donned it, fastening a few buttons to hide the unsightly bulge. <<Human particularity about clothing their physical forms is so odd. Shouldn't a frame filled with stored nutrients be a symbol of high status and desirability, a sign of superior vitality and access to resources?>> Maybe. Don't blame me, I didn't make the rules. Bridget slipped into her nearest pair of heels, grabbed her cosmetics bag from atop her vanity, stuffed it in her purse, and headed for the door. She thundered down the stairs, and out the door, so quickly that her father barely had time to look up from his phone before Bridget's “I'll be out in the car!” and the sound of the front door slamming reached his ears. The ride was thankfully uneventful, and even though her father drove faster than was usual or wise, Bridget managed to do a passable job of making herself presentable for a formal celebration but the time the gold lettering of the marble sign welcoming them to White Oak Lodge was visible in their headlights. The lodge itself oozed the feeling of old money. It was a red brick building with an impeccably manicured lawn, and small touches of opulence everywhere, from the white columns at the entrance to the eerily lifelike statues of Greek deities that adorned the fountain in the back, gazing upon new arrivals with blank stone eyes. As they winded their way along the drive, Bridget caught sight of a glass greenhouse where exotic flowers in a riot of colors basked in the glow of sun lamps, unperturbed by the chill of the air outside. “I'll drop you off and go find parking. Let your mom know I'll be in as soon as I can.” Bridget nodded and obeyed, nearly leaping out of the passenger door as soon as her father reached the curb out front. To her surprise, she was met by the sight of a man in a prim navy suit, walking toward her with crisp purpose. She barely had time to let out a confused “Huh?” before the man passed her and strode coolly up to her father on the other side of the car. “Sir, this is entirely irregular.” The man smiled, an expression as full of courtesy as it was devoid of human warmth. “Guests aren't to bring vehicles directly to the front, especially not after an event has started. Please see Rodolfo in the valet parking area over there, and he'll...take care of you.” “Oh,” her father replied awkwardly, “right, right, forgot all about that. Sorry, not used to this, you know?” He grinned sheepishly. “Of course, sir.” The man's accent was vaguely European, but hard to place. The tone of disdain in his voice, however, was unmistakable, as he pointed a gloved finger toward a section of the campus where row upon row of luxury cars gleamed beneath halogen lamps. Her father's blue minivan trundled its way between them, a dusty hobbyhorse intruding in a stable full of purebred stallions. Bridget did her best not to look at the concierge while she made her way toward the light of the front door. The foyer of the building was mercifully empty of other guests, and the only sound Bridget heard was the echoing clack of her own white heels on the black tile floor. Massive, gold-framed oil portraits of costumed heroes and richly-dressed dignitaries in somber idleness dominated the hall, but provide no guidance to Bridget as she looked around for her destination. “Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?” Bridget started as the lady at the receptionist's desk, a woman wearing horn-rimmed glasses with her grey hair in a tight bun, called out to her from behind a polished wooden desk at the far side of the foyer. “Um, I'm looking for the main reception hall, I think? Where they're presenting the key to the city?” “Oh, yes, Shelby Hall. Could I see your ID please?” Bridget fished in her purse for her license, and handed it over to the woman. After a few moments of awkward fidgeting, the receptionist returned it, and pointed her down a maze of white hallways. Bridget made her way uncertainly through the corridors, as quickly as she could manage. She made a few wrong turns in the process, but before long, she picked up the indistinct sound of human speech. With that to guide her, she was able to find the ornate wooden doors that marked her destination. She tried her best to make a stealthy entrance, but the loud squeak of brass hinges might as well have been a herald announcing her arrival. At least a hundred people turned to look at her, and she very nearly turned tail and ran then and there. Her eyes darted around the room-- luckily able to pick out a familiar blonde in a familiar mantle and a yellow-and-red hero uniform with a starburst emblem on the chest. Doing her best to ignore everyone else and not to wonder whether they were whispering about her as she passed, she made her way toward Sami and the rest of the Stalwart Six. As she approached her sister and her friends, she saw her mother at the table next to them, staring at her with face ashen and lips pursed in a glower of disapproval. Suddenly, it felt more like she was walking to her own execution. But before she could reach her mother and receive what would no doubt be a blistering scolding for tardiness, there was a sudden clink of metal on glass. In an instant, everyone was seated and silent, except for one red-haired woman, decked in a white pantsuit and a string of enormous pearls, who stood in front of the central table, a microphone in her hand. Without thinking, Bridget dove for the nearest seat, an empty chair between Isis and Kendra. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the speaker began crisply, “luminaries of the League of Virtue,” she nodded toward a group of older heroes, whose uniforms were far too expensive-looking to be crime-fighting gear, “it is my profound pleasure to welcome you to this joyous occasion, where we celebrate the safety of our city, and honor the upstanding young heroes who have made our peaceful lives possible...” She continued in this vein for a while, but Bridget was quickly distracted by a sound much closer at hand. “Bridget!” Sami hissed, eyes wide. “That's the dean's seat! What the hell are you doing?” Bridget's cheeks flushed a deeper crimson than she'd ever thought possible.

Just letting people know, update will be delayed this week because of the holiday weekend. Sorry about the delay, but thank you for reading

It’s nice to see more queer superhero stories! This is really well written and intriguing

Glad to see this back!

..such a relationship. They would tell me that love is unpredictable and uncontrollable; that its dangers far outweigh the rewards. They would remind me of all these things, if they were still here on earth. Yet I have not found a single one of my kin since returning. So perhaps they do not know as much as they think they do. This world is evolving. And if our methods do not evolve with it we shall certainly be left behind as the Enemy surpasses us. Yes, my actions may be considered foolish, but time will tell if I am making the right choice. As they say, “The best tactics are passed down by the survivors.” And I have always been a survivor. Julia. Such an innocent, fragile creature. She would be the perfect host for nearly any other kind of Spirit. And Luc; even the name means Light. Yet his mind is so muddled by ignorance. Intellectuals are often so easy to manipulate. Alone they would each be fairly harmless, but put them together and you might just create something very… Interesting. That's why most demons try to isolate their host however they can. For when two souls collide, the resulting reaction--be it good or bad--is always volatile. It i. s a calculated risk; a gamble, just like any other stratagem. If it fails then I, and the humans, will pay dearly for my mistake. But if it pays off… Then I will give all Angels something to fear. We don't know exactly, but knowing that she's deliberately putting them together to create a weapon to improve her own standing and help demons fight angels is much more than we had before this chapter.

Hmmm. It's interesting to see what the demon's up to, even if I would have loved to keep it a surprise

I’m also glad we finally get more of Val being emotionally vulnerable: one of the things that makes her so fun to write is how full of contradictions she is. Val projects a very cool, unflappable, analytical version of herself, and it’s a lot of fun to take a peek behind that mask. I don’t want to spoil too much, but there’s more there, and we’ll definitely see some of that before too long