BoloOfEarth

"Behold, the power of... Marvolo the Strange!"
 
Micah Stevens shook his head as he took the stage.  A man of his intelligence and schooling, reduced to doing tricks as a stage magician!  Sure, he had always had a knack for sleight of hand and a flair for the dramatic, but he really wished he could have turned his PhD in Sociology into a teaching position, or indeed any paying job at all, instead of being reduced to... this.  Performing legerdemain for drunk, bored gamblers at a second-string casino outside Providence.  It was enough to drive a man to drink.
 
He was halfway through his mind-reading trick when the door burst open and a half dozen VIPER agents rushed in followed by... oh, my God, is that Rhode Island Red?!  People were already scrambling for cover as the man-rooster did his famous Crow of Justice, causing one VIPER agent to run screaming to escape through the stage door.  Unfortunately, he tripped on the stage stairs and face-planted, causing his blaster rifle to go off while pointed at the stage magician.  Stevens was sure he was going to die, but his hands moved instinctively, creating a magical shield that deflected the photonic energy.  "What the..."  Stevens said as he stumbled backward.  As the agent got to his feet and moved toward the stage magician, Stevens' hands again seemed to move of their own accord, casting another spell that caused mystic bands to encircle the Goon in Green, wrapping him tight.
 
Once all the VIPER agents were dealt with and the police were called, Rhode Island Red walked up to shake Stevens' hand.  "Marvolo, is it?  Good work taking on that agent.  It's always good to have another superhero on the job."  Stevens pondered his situation.  Somehow, he was able to cast honest-to-God magic (though damned if he knew how he had done it).  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth (and reasoning that several dozen people had seen him cast magic), he told the press that he was Marvolo, the newest superhero to protect Providence, RI.  (He was sure there had to be some way he could turn this into a profitable venture.)
 
Through trial and error (mostly error), Marvolo has learned he can cast a handful of spells.  Most of his successes are instinctive (borne of desperation) rather than the result of practice, though he's trying to replicate some of his "oh-shit" spells (with varying degrees of success).  A mis-cast levitation spell caused his cape to animate, giving him an ally of sorts (though Marvolo isn't sure the cape is always on his side).  The wands and staff he carries and the "mystic amulet" at his neck are mostly props, though one of his wands is secretly a high-tech taser.   He supplements his spells with smoke bombs, flash bombs, and other covert tech trinkets.  And hopes desperately that he can pull off this "junior superhero" gig without losing his head... literally.

[footage of late 19th / early 20th century train chugging down the tracks, but the engine looks higher tech than one would expect]
 
[interior of engine, with similar high-tech look; train engineer is adjusting dials and flipping switches, while speaking into a speaking tube connected to what looks like an early radio transmitter]
 
"BPS arm switches on, here comes the throttle."  The engineer pushes a lever forward, and the engine noticeably increases in speed; he pulls a release lever, and the rest of the rail cars disconnect and the engine pulls quickly away from them.  "We have separation.  Coming forward with the side-stick."  He pulls another lever, and the engine increases in speed yet again.
 
Suddenly, there's a loud BANG! and the engine shakes violently on the tracks as various dials spike into the red.  The engineer looks worried, but is maintaining his composure as he flips switches and adjusts dials.  "We've got a blowout, Amber-3.  Throttle's out, I can't hold the track."  The speeding engine rocks on the tracks, the wheels squealing in protest.  Minor explosions on other parts of the engine send parts flying.  "Ground-comm, I can't hold it.  She's breaking up, she's breaking up!"
 
[footage of train engine derailing and crashing through the trees]
 
[switch scene to early 20th century operating room]
 
(announcer voiceover)  "Steven Astor, engineer.  A man barely alive."
 
[blueprints and diagrams of intricate mechanisms]
 
(Nicola Tesla voiceover)  "Gentlemen, we can rebuild him.  We have the technology.  We have the capability to make the world's first Electro-Magnetic man.
 
[more footage of operating room, plus engineers assembling robotic limbs]
 
(Nicola Tesla voiceover)  "Steven Astor will be that man.  Better than he was before.  Better.  Stronger.  Faster."
 
[footage of Astor, his robotic limbs shiny as he runs down a dirt road, passing Model-T cars as if they're standing still]
 
Astor, aka Steamborg, is the $60,000 Man.

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure
(continued)
 
Getting into the cannery wasn’t hard. A few bounces and I was on the roof. There was an outside stairway that lead in and down to the rest. There was a lock on it, but it wasn’t anything too strong or high tech to foil me. Oh, even if there was I would have broken in, I just thought maybe stealth would be the best way to go.
Of course, as a rule, I’m not stealthy. Also? I can’t see in the dark. So I had hit something of a snag here as I snapped the lock and went down into the dark. If I was lucky, the villainess, whoever she was, couldn’t see in the dark either, and had a light source out of necessity. The light from above faded so fast I was soon plunged in total blackness.
    And I nearly slipped on the step more than once. Now, this sucked but it would suck for me to fall less than a lot of other people. My power is rebounding. Hit me with kinetic force, and I bounce around like nuts with little to no harm to myself. We may have a lot of bullet proof heroes in this city right now, but yours truly is the queen of taking blunt attacks and staying pretty.
 
 Sharp objects are a bit more of a problem, but I’ve been practicing on using my powers on those too, and I’ve got a knife resistant weave in my costume so there’s that. But a fall? I could handle that. I could bounce down the whole way superfast.
  But that would also surely give away my location or at least my arrival and put Aspirant in danger. What if there was a weapon to his throat, or he was strapped to a bomb? Not for the first time my mind raced with possible hostage scenarios, each one worse than before.

    I have an active imagination, and it is not always a blessing. I found a rail, and I took it slow, agonizingly, nerve-wrackingly slow. It was all I could do not to grit my teeth in frustration. I’d never had someone I loved before used against me this way. I mean, if you believe the comic books, every superhero eventually does, but I really prefer reading about it to experiencing it.

    My head was making noise anyway so I kept it busy by having a conversation with myself.

    Easy, Pogo. Aspirant is a hero too. Even hurt, he’ll try to get free on his own. And if he can’t, we at least know he knows the drill. You’ve practiced for this, Pogo. Lady Obsidian has put everyone through a dozen simulations for moments like this.
    Of course, the simulations usually pushed for backup and teamwork, both very much in doubt now. No, positive thoughts, assertive, but not cocky. Cool, but not cold. Hopeful, not harried.
    I heard a voice, just a single one.

    “No, mother… I haven’t issued my challenge yet. I have to find some way to do it without getting the whole team on me,” The voice was a woman. It was hard to be sure but she sounded roughly my age. I couldn’t place the accent beyond American.
    There was a pause, as if someone else were speaking and the first voice had to wait.
    Then she continued, “He DID take on more than one, mother, and he lost because of it. I… no mother. I didn’t mean it that way. I won’t fail you. I’ll avenge him. You’ll see!”
    And somewhere in the dark, I hit the bucket someone had left on the steps! They clattered down down down with a clank clank thunk!
    Damn it, if I wanted noises like that, I would have made them myself!
    “Who’s that?” the voice called up, “Mom, I got to go. I think she’s here…”

    To hell with it, it was too late. I was made. I had to move! So I dropped and followed the bucket and began to bounce down the steps. I put full force on my feet, with my hands upraised to catch contact with the ceiling before hammering down again.  Each bounce feeding me more and more energy to redirect and use for my own. I don’t get sick. I don’t get dizzy. I do get kind of pumped up! And when I get pumped up, I can’t help but start rambling.
    I get a lot of grief for this, but you know I’m not the only one. I mean, I like Eel, but he talks way a lot during his fights too! Besides, I was made, might as well give whoever this woman was the old razzle-dazzle and hope to distract her.
    “Hello,” I declared as I shot into the floor level of the cannery where my costumed beau lay blindfolded, and shackled with a nasty swelling on his head, “You have kidnapped my team mate” And Boyfriend, I thought angry before yelling, “Prepare to get bounced, trounced, and thoroughly denounced!”
    “Finally!” the villainess whirled, and then, almost an after thought, “Mom, I gotta go. She found me. Yes, vengeance will be...”     
    I crashed into the gray and black clad woman causing her to drop her phone as I slammed her into a large stack of old cans which scattered like bowling pins with a lot of force, but not to lethal levels. Angry as I was, I did remember the first rule of superheroes. We don’t kill! We’re not executioners, we’re the good guys. And darn it, the world needs that. There’s an old Chinese saying, darn if I can remember who the source is, I presume an old Chinese guy (Who by now is really, really dead): Without standards, no boundaries are set.

    My boundaries were simple, solid walls, objects much heavier than myself, and no fricking killing!

    I wasn’t above giving into curiosity though, and even as I was flying back from contact with her, I snatched the dropped phone up and asked, “I’m sorry, Pogo here. What’s her name can’t come to the phone right now as I’m about to kick her ass for hurting Aspirant and bothering me during a really bad day. Can I take a message?”
    There was a stream of cursing in my ear that was as passionate as it was unoriginal. She compared me to a female dog, she declared my birth illegitimate, and I think she even threw in something vaguely antisemitic, which made NO sense. Then she finished up with a part that stood out.
    “You’ll pay for what you did to my son! For the way you made him a laughing stock in the villain set!”

    I was about to ask just who the hell was her son even as I reached for Aspirant to get him the hell out of here, when something glowing and green lashed about me, and yanking me back even as pain from a strange discharge arched through me.
    “YOU!” Said the villainess who I had knocked into the cans. She’d gotten to her feet faster than I thought she would. Projecting from her were strange emerald energy coils, that reminded me a little of Bramble’s vines even if they were not made of any form of plant life. It was a constricting maneuver, and that, that was a problem!
    Eel had long ago pointed out that grapplers had ways of taking me out more effectively than punchers. So energy coils wrapping about me, and starting to tighten? That was more than a little alarming. And it was a darn good thing that I’m a lot more serious a hero than folks give me credit for. I’ve been doing this for a few years now, and when I was told that grappling was a weakpoint for me? You know what I did?
 
I started practicing my escapology and hold escapes, that’s what I did!

 Before the noose of energy could completely tighten, I redirected my motion and lunged through the eye of it, inhaling, and thinking thin thin thoughts! There was an almost digitized snap sound behind me and the pain ended as I slipped loose from it.
 Despite her mask, the girl in front of me couldn’t stop her expression of shock and surprise and I came at her and delivered a good right cross right along her kisser and a lecture to boot!
 “Your mom is very rude, and you’re not much better! Are you crazy, coming into THIS city and kidnapping a member of the New Samaritans? On your own? I don’t know who your brother is, but he can’t be worth embracing a plan sure to get your ass handed to you eventually no matter what! “
  “My mother made me.. I mean, my family….” The villain was tough, but not super tough. I’d bloodied her lip. She rubbed, and then snapped, “Wait, you don’t even know who my brother is? After you helped disgrace him? You didn’t even take him seriously? He was a walking BOMB, you smug sugary twit! My brother could wreck whole streets, my brother is DEVASTATION! And you WILL remember him!”
    Another emerald energy coil shot out of her, striking out like a glowing whip! It was not purely kinetic, and while my powers protect me from everything a little; it wasn’t enough. This hurt like hell, and I  could feel it threatening to cut through not just my costume, but the flesh of my back!
 
 I think a cry of pain escaped me despite my best effort. Moving, keep moving. She was right about one thing. I remembered Devastation! It was back when the rookies had really just arrived, and I was, comparatively, the old pro for once. And still I needed help from Valerosa and Eel then to beat him. I have to admit, using his own power against him was rather satisfying despite the dangers. He really couldn’t hurt me, just knock me around and once I got under him? I took control of the fight and got him into the water which made him easy pickings for Eel.
    This woman, her powers were different. This woman could hurt me.
    And you know something?
    So what? I’ve been brain fried, electrified, strangled, and bespelled! I’ m not going to say pain didn’t scare me. I’m saying no hero worth her salt can let the fear of pain keep her cowed!  I kept tumbling, and kept rolling,  building up momentum again then kicked the wall. She could hurt me if she hit me, but first? She’d have to hit me and a lot more than once!

  I was angry more than scared, but neither was good in this fight. Aspirant was injured and nearby. I needed to keep my focus to keep the fight away from him.  If she threatened to hurt him if I didn’t surrender.
  Yeah, I’d surrender to save him.

  He’s my guy.

 So I better make sure she doesn’t think of that. Fortunately, not only did she seem to have an easy button to press when it came to smack talk, she had labeled it for me.
    “Oh, yeah, Devastation, I remember him! He was a real jerk, so confident how bad he was just because he had zero finesse and a big boom. But his best blasts? All they did was fuel me, make me more powerful, and then, when I got under him, he was my personal play toy. You’re the sister of THAT loser?”

    “SHUT UP!” She send out twin energy coils, one from each hand at me. One high, one low.
    Which is why I went middle, and answered, “Never have, never will. I’m a talker. What you want me to do? Lie? One minute your bully of a brother was willing to put the lives of innocents at risk, the next he was crying out because the tables had turned. You want me to say I’m SORRY I saved lives?”
    I looked for an avenue to close on her again, but her fast paced whipping certainly made it it hard to find one. The good news? We’d moved well away from Aspirant, further into the halls of the cannery. There were long slumbering assembly lines and devices here, and of course, more and more stacked boxes of cans.

    “You didn’t have to humiliate him!” My foe declared, “You didn’t have to ruin his reputation. Do you know much that pissed my mother off? He was the success of the family! He was the big threat! And you made him a joke!”
    For a moment I thought her shots went extra wide, but then I realized I wasn’t the target. Each jade coil had latched onto a chunk of factory machine and then they closed them on me, seeking to entrap me! I bounced between the two now closing objects, building up speed but unsure I’d break free!
    Crap crap crap! She was mad, but not brainlessly so. I slammed my fists down on the objects as they came close to sealing me in, and popped out, hit the ceiling and came down again, breaking the almost constraints through raw force with a crunching sound. And I leaped to tackle her before she could do that again!
    We tumbled end over end, and that was my advantage, because every time she hit the ground, she groaned. When I hit it? I picked up oomph and force to hammer her down anew. She was tough, but she wasn’t Valerosa or Eel tough.
    “Your mother pushes you towards this?” I said stunned, figuratively speaking, “She wants you to be villains? Holy crap, I thought my family was stressful! Look, I get it. You want to make them happy, and superpowers don’t make that easier, they make it harder, but you shouldn’t destroy your future just to appease your mom’s twisted dreams of being some criminal matriarch!”

    My anger over this girl kidnapping my boyfriend and hurting him wasn’t gone, not by any stretch of the imagination, but now it had been joined by a strong confused streak of pity and, yeah, a weird deja vu. I mean, obviously my grandmother didn’t want me to be a supervillain. She really did want what she thought was best for me, but still, I knew what it was like to feel the weight of expectation. I wanted to make everyone happy. Everyone. But even when I knew what made me happy, I felt bad about pursuing it!
    “And go where? Huh? And go where?” My new surprise nemesis snapped, “When Devastation gets out of jail, if he finds out I crossed mom, he’ll come for me to teach me a lesson. If she doesn’t’ do it herself or my sister. We’ve all got powers, all five of us, but I’m the only one who hasn’t made her bones. I’m the only one who is weak! I have to fix that! I need to stand out as RAVAGE!”

    As if they had minds of their own, which, maybe they did, the energy coils of hers managed to snag me again. The strange emissions burned and zapped in turn, neither quite heat nor quite electricity. And they squeezed. I wasn’t sure I’d get free this time so instead I kept slamming her against this wall, that floor, and yeah, even the ceiling.
    I had hoped her only power was the weird energy lashes she emitted. But Ravage was also plenty tough. An ordinary person would be at risk of broken bones with the bumps and slams I was delivering but while she was hurting, she was in no danger of that.

    “Ravage? Really?” I said, “Sure, let’s go with that. Look, Ravage I don’t know your family story and I would feel sorry for you if you hadn’t hurt Aspirant! But if you haven’t committed other crimes, maybe we can keep charges low, get you a safe place and therapy, SO much therapy. Right now, until you surrender, we’re going to keep at it until one of us is out and Urk!”

I didn’t mean to say Urk. That was the consequence of my foe bringing in her coils to crush wrap up tight together in a kind of cocoon. Ravage had gotten time to recover and her coils and I was trapped by the tendrils that had elongated and extended over and over again until the only light I could see was the verdant glow of her own coils about us both. We were nose to nose.

 “Now I’ve got YOU trapped,” She said, even as the coils shot waves of pain along me wherever they touched. They didn’t seem to harm their maker, which makes sense, “I’ve won.”
 Slowly, inch by inch, I slipped my right arm up between us. I didn’t have enough room to draw back for a solid punch, but I said, “I’m a trained hero, with lessons from veteran superheroes who have,” I gasped as more energy burned me,  “taught me tried and tested hand to hand techniques. Don’t make me do the Fu.”
 “What? Kung Fu?” She sneered, looking a bit like the Wicked Witch of the West in her own emerald light.
 
“Nope,” I jabbed my fingers in her eyes, “Stooge Fu, Nyuk Nyuk!” Yeah, this was diving into the old lore. My Great Uncle thinks they’re the funniest thing and got me to sit down to watch them when I was a kid. Let this be a lesson to any future super-heroines, you can pick up tools for your war on crime from the weirdest places.

  Valerosa once told me that people had reflexive reactions to certain intrusions. That while a true pro would not be mislead by those hard wired reactions, an amateur might!
  Looks like Ravage’s mom had neglected her training! Ravage did what most of us would do if ours were in danger. She flinched! Her Focus disrupted, her coils sprayed open, and I shoved myself out of their grasp and knocked her down again.
  She staggered about cursing at me.

    “Oh, stop your whining,” my own supply of good humor was dwindling, “I know how much force to apply and I keep my nails short. Your eyes weren’t damaged for good.”
    I didn’t give her time to recover her focus or for her watering eyes to clear, bouncing back, and now that I had her measure, holding back less. I hit her, rebounded, built up power, and hit her again and again!

    Ravage, sister of Devastation, went down. This time, she stayed down. I rebounded from her, to Aspirant, let my kinetic energy die down and cradled his head gently, “Oh, baby. I got your message. It was weird, but I got it.”
    “You did?” He looked blearily at me, “couldn’t focus. Comms were down.”
    “I know, and yes,” I bent down to kiss him on the lips gently, “Nobody’s going to hurt you now.”
    He was too weak to return the kiss much, but he tried, and he smiled when it was over “Pogo saves the day. Hey,” A hand went up to my mask, “Don’t cry.”

    “Can’t help it,” I told him. He didn’t need to be a telepath to know how scared I was I might lose him, or happy I was that he was alive, “I’m a bad-ass who is not afraid of her emotions.”
    He gave a weak chuckle and I slowly helped him get to his feet. He had to lean against me. We had both had less smelly days, but that too was okay.
    “Wait, Comms are down, how am I going to call to get Ravage in the tank?” I wondered aloud, “Can’t use my personal phone in the car, that’ll be a risk to my secret ID,” Then I spotted the phone I’d spoke on earlier. It was ringing.
    “Your mom is calling again,” I told the unconscious Ravage, sighed and with a nod towards Aspirant so he’d understand, I picked up the phone and answered.

    “Ravage? Ravage, is it done?” The woman’s voice sounded like she was positively salivating at the idea of her daughter avenging her baby boy.

    A dozen flippant comments came to mind, or even a few flat out jokes, or maybe pranking her, but no, I had something serious to say and I was going to say it, “Your daughter is not too badly hurt. Which is the first thing you should have asked about, but I’m not surprised you didn’t. You. Are. A. Terrible. Mother.”
    She began to cuss.

    “SHUT UP,” I snapped, “Hero talking, coward who sends others doesn’t get to until I say so.”
    There was a sputtering sound, and I continued on, “Ravage is your daughter, but she is also her own person. She’s not just an extension of you or even her family, and if you were a mother of any sort of worth you’d know that, but instead you tied up her worth in her brother’s revenge. You made her SCARED of you? You treat her like an appendage that you’re willing to cut off if it’s not useful but in a real family, every person is valued, not just your golden boy son, and certainly not just your personal clan vanity! Your daughter is going to jail because YOU pushed her to this, because you SHAMED her. She is not the weak link in your family, YOU are! You had one job as a mom, and you screwed it up. And I’m coming after you.  Not because you’re some cool arch-enemy, not because you’re my nemesis. I’m coming for you because you’re a toxic influence on your own children, and I just find you offensive! Better change your phone number, genius… better hope it’s not traceable with super tech!”
    The phone abruptly disconnected. I smiled, Eel might be proud of me for that speech. We both had righteous outrage and little shame about it.

    “We’ll get her,” My boyfriend promised, “Better call the Tank next.”

    I looked at Ravage, still out. A part of me almost wished I could let her go. What a waste of power and talent, all for fear of a family member. I wasn’t so oblivious as to realize there was a dark reflection thing going on here. I thought of my grandmother and realized I’d been afraid of her. Unlike Ravage’s mother, grandma did it out of love, just like mom said, and besides, Grandmother’s mind was slipping. I could admit that now. It was going to get harder, not easier, but nothing we couldn’t handle, if we faced it as a family.

  “Yes, yes you will, and I’ll help,” My boyfriend said by my side.
    “Hey, I thought your telepathy was on the fritz thanks to the headbump?” I looked at him.
    “This close? I got you,” he said gently, “And while I can’t cure things, if you want? I’ll help her as much as I can.”
    I hugged him! He hugged me!
    We both went “Ow ow ow!” We’d forgotten we were very, very, sore from his ambush and my fight.
    “Let’s not tell the other Samaritans we did that,” Aspirant advised, “We would never hear the end of it.”
    “Deal,” I said, “I’ll call authorities to pick up Ravage. Then I’ll get you to medbay, and then? Then I have to deliver a cake.”
    “A cake?” he said surprised.
    “Yup,” I said as we supported each other, “For others, this escapade would be a challenge, but for the mighty Pogo? A cakewalk.”  Maybe it was the exhaustion and pain from the fight, but I thought that was very funny of me and was vindicated when Aspirant gave a soft laugh as if he found it very funny too.
    Of course, he was possibly concussed, so maybe wasn’t judging so well but I took it as a win anyway.
(The End)
    
 

Elon Musk.  To be visited by the ghosts of Christmas Past (Twitter), Present (X), and Future (Bankruptcy).

Sure, kill the joke.  

Ah, I just read Hermit's latest installment on the Fish Guy thread.  It involved Pogo.  So that explains Hermit going around the bend.
 
And yes, HERMIT KEEP MAKE WORD THINGS GO!

Sure, kill the joke.  

Sure, kill the joke.  

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure
(continued)
 
 
Traffic had really picked up for the short time I was in the store and was as thick as stew by the time I got on the road again. I didn’t know if there was a convention, or some big game going on in the city I had forgotten, but I could bounce faster than the traffic was moving.
And the team communication network was still down. What the heck was up with that? I took a peek for a text response on my phone while I waited behind a red-light, only briefly. No response there either. Frustrated, I put on the radio. Maybe there would be one of those oddly common clues by media we superheroes get now and then? I know it sounds crazy but it is amazing how often some DJ interrupts their regular play list to mention something weird going on at this or that street, before taking requests. Doubly weird when you consider that a lot of radio today is preprogrammed days in advance.
 
I hit random scan for laughs and to take my mind off my worries and anxiety. The first station it hit was the local golden oldies station that played 80s music. Walking on Sunshine started, that’s one I actually know! I normally like perky songs, but this time? I wasn’t feeling it so I didn’t sing the lyrics.
 
The problem? Neither did the radio!
 
I swore I heard the chorus as ‘I’ve been stalked by a villain, wooah
stalked by a villain, whooah
and I’ve been concussed good!’
 
I double blinked, and took my eyes off the road for a second to stare, but I had set it on scan mode so it had already moved onto a different station.
A song from a superhero movie, one of the fictional superheroes not a real one like me, was playing..
And the lyrics were wrong again.
 
You’re not crazy, don’t ignore this tone
I’m trapped by a psycho all alone
I’m in Danger (Danger)
I’m in Danger! (Danger)
Hope I can forge a link you’re in range of
Pogo, I’m in danger…
 
I had to swerve out of the way of incoming traffic, as to say I was a little surprised! Did that just say what I thought it said? I left the scanner on as I reoriented myself wondering if I was going crazy. But then, the last song said I wasn’t? And if you can’t trust a lyric mutilating radio performance, who can you trust?
Did I need a therapist? The team had free access to a trusted therapist. Eel had been attending one for awhile. He had taken a lot of sessions after his last big adventure. What with his dad having cancer and Caleb blaming himself for that; the guy had been through a lot. So while some in my family might think psychology wasn’t for normal people, I was not sticking my nose up at it. Eel is either remarkably strong willed, or maybe just pig headed. Either way, it is a sign there is no shame in going a little nuts if you’re responsible in reaching out for help when you get there.
The scan went on in my old car, and the lyrics went normal again. I must have imagined it.
 
The traffic was letting up. Finally I could deliver this cake.
 
Wait, range? The song said range!
 
I pulled a U turn and risked scaring some folks. Some bastard yelled something about Asian drivers, which is rude and racist. I yelled something back “My bad driving is my own and I own it, you creep!”
I’m not a bad driver by the way. I maybe mediocre, but I’m not bad.
 
I switched the radio off, and had an idea. I clicked my phone on search for a particular song. It was from a Canadian Band Aspirant had introduced me to. I guess he would claim it was THE Canadian Band.
“Play something by the Tragically Hip!” I ordered my phone.
 
And just like that, Locked in the Trunk of a Car began to play, and the more clearly I heard the twisted and completely wrong lyrics, the more I tried to use it to guide me towards wherever it was trying to lead me.
 
 
I don’t know where the hell I am
And my focus feels like jelly
This lady says you are her arch-enemy
I don’t know what for, can’t think!
I don’t know where the hell I am
And my focus feels like jelly
Pogo, I’m hoping this gets your attention
You know I think with you she has some contention
Her logo looks familiar, but trouble with memory retention
 
Warning, she spoke about kicking your backside non-stop
The end of you, she seeks and she says she won’t stop
Where you could say I became her hostage, this is messed up
Get the other Sammies before to my rescue you pop off
 
“Comms are down,” I said aloud in the car and tried to think real hard. If somehow he was affecting my mind so I was getting a message hidden in music, maybe he could pick up on my thoughts?
 
But if it was working on that end, it wasn’t showing because the ‘song’ kept going with it’s snippets warning me what I was facing.
 
She dragged me round some place, it is dark and a bit fishy
It’s a cold, stinking place
Where I hear the click of tins in case
Maybe I’m in cannery with food so squishy?
However, I can’t see; I’m in a blindfold shoddy
 
Cannery? I’ve been a resident of this city all my life. I didn’t have it all memorized, but I could make an educated guess. I headed near the warehouses and docks area. Damn it, Caleb would be great help on this.
“There’s never an aquatic hero when you need one!” I snapped unfairly.
 
Then the distorted music got less distorted, but gloomier still, and if you’ve heard the real song you’d know how bad that is.
 
If you can’t hear this, I wish you could understand
Mourn and Move on, I’ll understand
Yeah
 
And I’ve seen your face, and was immediately besotted
Your mind’s a warm and kindly place
And you liked me? Who’d have thought it?
You took my heart away, and I’m so glad you caught it
However, I’m asking, please cremate my body
 
It was romantic, it was sweet, it was tearful and heartfelt.
It was making me irrationally angry!
 
“Damn it,” I snapped at my boyfriend who apparently couldn’t hear my thoughts back while he worked on the music, “You are not dying. I’m going to rescue you, but I need you to not give up! Come on, remember, you’re a CAN-Nadian, not a Can’t-Nadian!”
 
As a refrain was going on before the final part of the ‘song’ I saw it, the Rhamnousia Cannery!
 
My phone played the last words ‘Let me out’ but I couldn’t tell if that was just how it ended normally, or my guy still fighting to transmit.
 
I don’t know who the hell was claiming to be my nemesis. A part of me always wanted a nemesis, but not if it meant my boyfriend was hurt and a hostage! My ire was rising. If someone wanted to make an enemy of me, hurting him was a good way to ensure it.
With my telepathic boyfriend so dazed he could only transmit on whatever part of my brain that listened to music, and the rest of the New Samaritans beyond my ability to contact? I was on my own.
This wanna be arch-enemy is pushing for a fight with me? Fine. I’m Pogo. Push me, and I push back harder!
***
(TBC)

Woot!  We get to see Ted again!  And by proxy, Emperor Norton!  Bonus points!

Woot!  We get to see Ted again!  And by proxy, Emperor Norton!  Bonus points!

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure
(continued)
 
I have a car. It was old when I got it. I got a pretty good deal though as the seller was a friend of the family. It’s Cherry red and it has a ‘Honk if you Love Heroes’ bumpersticker on it. One nice thing about knowing a super scientist who makes her own power armor is that every now and then she sends in a little repair robot to keep it alive for another year. It’s got a few dents, but it’s mine.

And it has just enough space in the back for a truly huge wedding cake. Which is one of the reasons I was sure I could help. I set up a nice clean spot and everything.

Unfortunately while I’m now a legally recognized adult, I’m still a young woman, so I’m kind of stressing out that my boyfriend still hasn’t responded to my text! Fortunately, I had an alternative means of catching up with folks. My car has a glove box, not a surprise, but what some folks don’t know is I have a hidden box UNDER the box, and unless you have my thumb print, you’re not getting in even if you find it. I keep a spare costume there, and a spare communicator for the team.

It’s all very James Bond, and I love it! Oh where was I? Anyway I opened up the hidden compartment, got the communicator, and slid it into my ear. There was a brief slurp sound as it nestled into my ear and I listened for any chatter even as I began to drive towards the bakery with the cake.
“Check check check,” I announced as I drove, “Radio Free Pogo of the New Samaritans on the comm. Thanks for joining my podcast, where we’ll be talking cake walks and open talks. I’m on my incog-neato to grab a cake for the lucky bride and groom to be as agreed. If you’re enjoying the show, give me a call. Our number is 1-800- where the heck is everyone?”

I expected Mabel to respond, even though she’s no longer wired into everything so intimately as before, she was still in the city and that meant she was never really without her connection to us in this close a proximity especially. But there was no response from her. Weird, even if she were with someone, Mabel can multitask like nobody’s business and have several conversations going on at once, at least on this device.

In fact, I wasn't getting much of a response from anyone. The brain-weasels of anxiety were rising up to attack my spiritual butterflies of justice. I hit the gas pedal without even thinking about it. The faster I got the cake, the sooner I could get it delivered to the base for cold storage until it was needed.
The lack of response was ridiculous, there were two and a half teams of superheroes in the city right now, and a lot of them had access to our com line. I was tempted to turn the car towards the base and go there in case it was under attack. Some paranoid part of my mind tried to think of what I’d done to earn some kind of shunning from the others. I hate being shunned. The silent treatment drove me crazy when I was a kid. If you asked me what my nightmare power would be? It would be to be invisible and inaudible. I don’t think I’m a vainglorious attention seeker, others can have the limelight, but I sure do hate being left in the proverbial dark.

But I made a promise, and I try to keep those. So, I decided to stick to the cake retrieval plan. After finally achieving victory over my old enemy, the Fellowship of Evil Red Lights, I pulled into the parking lot of the small plaza that included the cake shop. Founded in 2007, ‘Honest Cakes’ (With subtitle ‘Our Cakes really ARE a Triumph’) had a solid reputation for quality, and more importantly in the superhero business, asking no questions beyond what type of cake you wanted. The New Samaritans had used them on and off before. Mind you, almost always in their secret identities, but the point is, these guys didn’t raise an eyebrow if you asked them for a cake with the words ‘Rot in Jail forever’ for some villain you finally put away.

Consequently, their discretion and creativity had also won them a steady customer base among the LGBTQ+ community, so there’s that!

Earpiece still inserted, I walked into Honest Cakes armed with my confirmation number and a smile. The only one at the counter was a laid back looking man wearing an apron that said ‘Honest Cakes’ over another shirt with some kind of old My Little Pony novelty shirt. He had a kindly smile and facial hair that had gone past five O clock shadow but I wouldn’t call it a beard. It was hard to place his age, he could have been anywhere from twenty six to thirty three.
His name tag said ‘Ted’ so I went with that.

“Hi, Ted? I’m here to pick up a cake?” Then I realized how little that narrowed it down given his line of work, “I mean, of course I’m here for a cake, that’s what you guys make. Oh wait,” I realized, “Of course, you also make cupcakes and pies, so sorry, didn’t mean to make it sound like you guys aren’t diverse, it’s just your cakes are really good and in your store name and I realize that just telling you I’m here for a cake pick up isn’t going to help you very much and I’m sorry about that.”

Aaaand I realized I still hadn’t said anything helpful.
“I’m having a very worrisome day,” I muttered as an equally less than helpful addendum.

“Hey,” Ted shrugged, gently, sounding incredibly relaxed, “I feel that. I had to pill Emperor Norton this morning, and not the fun kind. Y’know? Vet says its good for him, but now? He’s not talking to me. Very stressful to have a bro mad at you, right?”
Despite his concerns for his own shunning, I was a bit in awe at how at ease he sounded when he explained it. I’d met Buddhist monks that would have envied this level of casual zen Ted was exuding. He seemed truly aware of the ebbs and flows of life around him and willing to coast along serenely with a wisdom few possessed.
 
Or he was stoned. Possibly stoned.
 
“I take it, Emperor Norton is your cat?” I inquired, curious despite my aforementioned concerns and the cake mission in hand.
“Well,” Ted chuckled lazily, “Only in that I’m also his human. Yeah, you wanna see pictures of him?”
 
Did I want to see pictures of his cat? Despite the fact I was in my mind mannered (but also feisty and self assured) secret identity of a young Chinese-American Gal on the go, I was Pogo! I was a super-heroine, one on a mission no less, who needed to make a crucial pick up and delivery that others were relying on me on, even as, for all I knew, one or more of my team mates could be secretly in danger. And one of those at risk? My hot Canadian boyfriend! Did I have time to waste looking over some guy’s cat pictures?
 
“You bet I would!” I said, grateful for the distraction from my stress and worry. Also, come on, CAT PICTURES!!!
 
Emperor Norton, it turned out, was a Silver Tabby with ‘tude and very photogenic by feline standards. I oohed and awed for a bit, as Ted went on about his little furry buddy’s mannerisms and more.
“…and that's why I suspect he and I get along despite our political differences,” Ted finished up.
“He’s wonderful,” I assured him, then I realized it was time to get back to the tasks at hand, “Would a confirmation number help?”
“Oh sure,” Ted said, “Lay it on me.”
I gave him the number, he gave me the cake, and Ted was such a sweetie he even helped me load it up for maximum safety in the car.
 
“Thanks, Ted. My regards to the Emperor, don’t you worry, he still is your brah, and you’re looking after him. Sometimes we have to be firm with our loved ones about what is needed to keep them from greater harm. That’s not a failing on your part that it’s so, it’s just .. part of life.”
Ted nodded, “You’re right, you’re right. Just, I worry, you know?” He said though his expression was one who wouldn’t be worried if a gang war broke out near his ovens.
“I know,” I said gently, and backed the car up and started to head out. Sometimes folks know the answers already but they need to hear it from someone else. Other times they’re blind and deaf to the facts of things, not from malice, but because they take too much on their own shoulders.
 
My, but those folks can be frustrating to deal with.
 
(TBC)

A mom is outraged that Moms for Liberty used her daughter in a harebrained scheme to ban a book (msn.com)
 
 
It seems to me that, if their position is that the book in question is pornographic, then the teacher who asked the student to check the book out of the library should be charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor.  Add her to the sexual offenders list.  Just sayin'.

A mom is outraged that Moms for Liberty used her daughter in a harebrained scheme to ban a book (msn.com)
 
 
It seems to me that, if their position is that the book in question is pornographic, then the teacher who asked the student to check the book out of the library should be charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor.  Add her to the sexual offenders list.  Just sayin'.

A mom is outraged that Moms for Liberty used her daughter in a harebrained scheme to ban a book (msn.com)
 
 
It seems to me that, if their position is that the book in question is pornographic, then the teacher who asked the student to check the book out of the library should be charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor.  Add her to the sexual offenders list.  Just sayin'.

You always wanted one last groove, eh?

When I die, I want my ashes pressed into a phonograph record.
 
Consider it my vinyl request.

My first Champions character GI Jones (don't judge me) carried an M-16.  Nothing superpowered, just a normal assault rifle.  However, the GM and all of us players were completely new to Champions, so the GM saw in the rulebook that an M-16 was "2d6/6d6" and thought the 2d6 was the damage and the 6d6 was the knockback.  And he also thought that you added up all the knockback for multiple hits.  During our first battle, I fired autofire at Brick, hitting with most if not all of the bullets.  (Hey, it's been like 40 years, I can't remember everything.)  Due to the combined misunderstanding about the rules, my shots did enough knockback to send Brick back into - and through - a building, then across an open space behind that building into a second building.  The bullets themselves did little damage to Brick, but slamming through multiple walls ended up knocking Brick out cold.

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure
(continued)
Tentatively, I approached Grandmother’s room and then, managing to settle things on one arm long enough to knock with a freehand “Grandma? I have your tea.”
 
Her response was in Cantonese, which she spoke beautifully, <”Caihong? Ah yes, my tea. Is it in my favorite cups?”>
“Yes,”I said in English, though I know she would prefer if I used Mandarin more, if only to stay in practice. Its just, my Cantonese is terrible and I really wasn’t in the mood to get a lecture about how I neglected my heritage or whatever. I love my grandma, but some days it seems I just can’t do anything right in her eyes.
Or maybe that’s just a child’s insecurity and now that I was an adult it was time to just hand the tea over and not worry about her finding everything wrong in me.
 
She took a sip from the cup, now in her frail looking hands, then made a face, “A bit cold.”
 
I eyed the steam still coming out of it, sure not a lot, but what did she want me to do? Arrange for third degree burns?
“Should I take it back?” I offered. I didn’t mean it in a snarky way.
That got me a sharp look, “I’m not done with it yet.”
 
I shrank back. Which is stupid because I’m a superhero and I’ve fought aliens and supervillains and terrorists and more but here I am shrinking back because my grandmother isn’t approving of me.
 
“Don’t flinch,” My grandmother tutted and took another drink before saying, “How is my garden?”
 
That perked me up, grandmother’s garden was small but very pretty, with so many flowers of so many types. While father had his doubts about it’s use, grandmother had used her considerable authority to make sure we had one to be proud of. It took time, effort, and work, but it was one of the things that cheered her up.
“Well, it’s not the full blooming season, but what we have looks great, and …”
“What do you mean it is not the full blooming season?” She looked towards the window, eyes straining, “It’s spring.”
 
I bit my lip, “No, grandma, it’s winter still. But as this is California, it’s still very nice and we …” As I tried to ease her confusion, I saw the tea cup start to drop from her hands. She had forgotten it was there.
My powers may seem erratic to some, and they are I guess, but I’ve practiced a lot and gotten a lot more athletic than I look. I shot my hand out just in time to keep the tea from spilling out and clasped the cup.
That was close!
 
Grandmother got up to her feet, not even noticing the near spill, and with that lurching gait that had plagued her more and more lately, she made her way to the window to move the curtains aside. Costa Sagrado has one of those slices of California that is the envy of other states when it comes to enjoying gentle winters. Still, she could see enough of her garden from the window to see for herself that the full bloom of spring was not here yet.
It really is a lovely garden in any season, the family works hard to make sure of that. It almost always makes grandma smile.
 
Now was not one of those times. She gazed at it with a small pensive frown, and in the light, she looked even older. Making sure the tray was okay and not likely to be knocked over, I moved to her side.
“It’s winter,” She observed, “How can it be winter? Wasn’t it winter last…” She shook her head, then turned to find me there, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. The garden looks good… for Winter.”
“It does,” I nodded so rapidly my head probably looked like it was going to pop off, “And it will be even more glorious in Spring. It’s going to be a good year,” I realized I was doing it again. I was babbling. I get like that. I know, I know it’s irritating. I get on others folks nerves, most folks anyway but I mean well, “I can tell, lots of good things are happening already. Why I’ve even get to go to a wedding.”
 
At that grandma turned to me, and gave a look of concern, “You’re too young to get married. Who put this idea in your head? Where’s my cane? I want to talk to them.”
 
The way she stressed the word talk when she asked for her cane made me realize I might not be the only family member comfortable with brute force if there was a lesson to be learned.
 
I held out my hands in a classic placating gesture, or maybe it was the sign for ‘don’t shoot?’ either way, “Not me, Grandmother, not me. I’m not getting married. I’ll just be attending. I do have a nice dress though. And I even offered to pick up the cake.”
 
As soon as my mouth said it, my brain set out an alarm reminding me that the mouth actually knew what it was talking about. Since the brain kept more detailed files than my mouth, I also realized today was the day I was supposed to get the cake.
It was a big responsibility! You see, there was more than one wedding, in a sense, because Caleb and Ariana had the secret identity one, and the superhero one. And I was supposed to fetch the cake for one of them. Today!
 
I needed to tell grandma that I had to go. Wait, mom wanted me to talk to her for a bit and stay with her. I needed to get one of my sibs to handle this. Wait, sis would have her nose so deep in her tablet kidnappers could STEAL grandma and she’d not notice, and I haven’t been too impressed with my brother of late. Besides they had other projects now that mama had used their full names.
 
An idea occurred to me, and I pulled out my phone and texted my boyfriend.
TXT: Hey babe, can you help me out with a Cake retrieval? I am kind of stuck.
Then the response… didn’t come.
 
That wasn’t a good sign. Aspirant, his hero name, is pretty prompt because he knows that while I am a grown woman now, I still read way too much wrong into a slow text response. Of course, logically I knew that everything was probably just fine. He was just busy with one thing or another. Maybe he was in the shower. Maybe he was helping set up some bachelor party with the guys of the team, though like me he wasn’t old enough to drink.
Or maybe my Canadian Cutie was in a desperate battle for his life against some crazed super-villain, alone, stranded, without back up? What if he left his blaster behind and was facing a giant telepathy proof killer robot? What if he was strapped to a train track with five other people, while an evil philosopher practiced cruel ethical experiments on some hapless bystander forcing them to choose who would live, and who would die?
 
“The fiend,” and only then did I realize I had muttered that aloud. Darn my eternally flapping mouth!
 
And why don’t people in those tests ever just call for a superhero to save EVERYONE? It’s the 21st Century, 911 will get you through to the nearest recognized superhero team if they don’t have their own contact info made public in the first place. Geez!
My grandmother was looking at me. She had her focus back. That was good. The bad? She was using that focus to give me that ‘what is wrong with you, girl?” look again.
“Caihong, why is someone a fiend for making you wear a dress and having you get cake?”
I suppose, given her own lack of telepathy, that was a legitimate logical leap on her part. I squirmed a bit, and fought the urge to look at my shoes, “Well, actually Grandmother I… I have to pick up the cake today for a friend. I practically begged them to make me a part of it, to let me help, and they said I could pick up the cake and I…”
 
 
“Do you need to go now?” My Grandmother arched a brow. She cut me off, but to be fair, a lot of people do that. Something about getting a word in edgewise or needing a pause between sentences so it could be a two way conversation.
“Actually?” I took a breath then answered, “Yes. But I don’t want to leave you alone or anything.”
My grandmother looked at me, “We have a decently sized family, Caihong,” her voice gentled, “I am sure that someone will check on me again shortly. Go. A promise should be kept.”
“Thank you, Grandmother,” I said. Honestly, there is nothing in my culture that says I have to bob my head like a bobblehead toy, it’s just my own habit when dealing with my elder family members.
“Though you do vanish at the oddest times. It can be rude, you know?” She arched a brow.
“Sorry, Grandma,” I winced.
“Mmm, take the tea with you, I’m done with it for now,” She dismissed me and looked out at her garden.
 
I gathered the saucer and cup up, and started to head out. As I closed the door to her bedroom, I swore I could hear her say.
“Winter? Again?”
 
I got some dirty looks from my sister as I put the cup and saucer on the kitchen counter to deal with while she washed the dishes. It looked like mom had the pork all cooking now though I didn’t see her here at this moment.
“Tell mama I had to go out and Grandmother was okay with it,” I said then added, “Please?”
 
“Not sure why I should. How come you get to go out and see your boyfriend willy-nilly while I get treated like the house slave and can’t even see mine?” She said in a waspish tone.
 
I put a hand on my hip, in the universal sign of big sisterhood about to unload some truths, “Gee, I don’t know, because I’m two years older than you and just because I’m an adult doesn’t mean you get the same bennies as soon as I prove myself trustworthy? Maybe because mom and dad know about how MUCH you’re sharing on the phone of yours in those texts between you?”
 
“You’re spying on me?” She gasped.
 
“No, you just suck that much at keeping secrets. Also, I have A boyfriend, maybe it will fall apart, I bet it won’t, but you don’t have a boyfriend. You have boyfriends, plural, one this week, then another that week, so let’s not pretend your romances are just as solid or serious. And as for ‘house slave’? Seriously? Mama does about 70% of the work in this house. I do another twenty, and you and bro? You’re in a contest to see who can do the least for the remaining 10% percent. THAT’s why you can actually bear the burden of passing on a lousy message that I’m out.”
 
I shouldn’t have raised my voice to her. I shouldn’t have snapped back. I don’t do it, not often, at least I don’t think I do? This worked to my advantage as her mouth fell open in shock.
 
I wanted to apologize. I wanted to assure her that I was just concerned about her being taken advantage of, not that I thought she was a sleezeball. I wanted to explain grandmother, who had always intimidated me a bit, though I love her, was now scaring me, because I could feel she was slipping away. And I wanted to explain mama could feel it too, and wasn’t sure what to do about it. How she felt overwhelmed.
 
And I wanted to tell her that yes, I knew that while I did a lot of chores around here, I had also been vanishing unreliably for the last few years since I became an active superhero. I save lives! I don’t expect a reward for that, but it sure would be nice to just tell her to shut up about my irregular schedule and pick up some freaking slack on her own! And right now, my boyfriend, who, unlike her and her boyfriends, I actually knew the birthday of, and favorite color, and favorite book, and and and…. He could be in a fight that was lethal!
 
But as big a motormouth I was, I knew my sister. She wasn’t all bad, but she also would try to turn any knowledge of superheroes into tiktok hits or the like for five minutes of fame even if it brought all sorts of trouble to our family.
So while she was stunned, I whirled on my heels, grabbed the keys to the car, and headed out!
And still no response on the text!
*** (TBC)

I gave the latest installment a Like, though it does seem a bit short for a Pogo adventure intro.  (I kid, Hermit, I kid.)

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure
 
Old people are everywhere. From the 'now on their decline' thirty year olds, to the truly wizened of forty five and beyond; you’ll find them. And, if you’re a Chinese American woman of the much younger age of nearly nineteen? Your elders will ALL think they’ve got the right to boss you around.
“Caihong!” My mother called out her voice somehow carving through three walls to reach my ears. Now she really did have the right to boss me around, “Are you done with your chores?”
 
Fortunately, I had an answer, “Yes, mama,” one thing I’ve got is energy, energy to burn, ask anyone and they’ll tell you I keep going and going and just don’t tire out though maybe that’s just in comparison to others because sometimes, just sometimes mind, I find out if I talk to older people for a mere twenty minutes or so and they start to look very tired indeed, “I got my list done!” I had a list, my own creation so I could keep ahead of my share of the various small unimportant to get them out of the way so I could focus on my true calling: Fighting crime!
 
I’m Pogo, bouncing bringer of justice and member of the New Samaritans! I inspire dread in the criminal scum, the villainous rogues, the slimeballs of… oh I can’t say that. Slime is a friend and ally, sure he smells terrible and he’s gross to watch but he’s a hero! Oh my god I’m so insensitive at times. Just because he’s a liquid-american, I shouldn’t discount him like that and it’s just rude. Wait, did Slime ever become a citizen? He’s an alien after all, not like the racist way of saying alien, I mean he’s actually from outer space. Maybe I should call him an extra-terrestrial expat? A Galactic citizen? I never asked Slime’s preferred identification. Wow, that is really insensitive of me!! I needed to find him and get this sorted, but of course, he wasn’t always easy to find. I would do it! I would comb the streets of the city! I would not rest, I would not stop, until I had made sure that…
 
“Caihong!” Oh right, I was talking to my mom, had she said something while I went down that train of thought? Oops.
 
“Yes, Mama, I finished my list,” I repeated, hoping she just hadn’t heard, and I hadn’t missed something else she said.
 
No such luck.
 
“I KNOW that, Caihong,” Mother tutted. How the heck do old people tut all the way across the house like that? At least moms. Now THAT is a crazy weird super power. Kind of like her immense guilt attack where she just looks at me and shakes her head slowly with disappointment. Gah, that just cuts right through every defense I’ve got: so annoying!
 
She went on, “Bring this tea to your grandmother before it gets cold. My hands are full.”
 
“Yes, mama,” And I moved through the halls of our house, the often crowded halls.
 
Nothing like siblings to make you think maybe a One Child Policy in the old motherland wasn’t a bad idea. One of my sisters was glued to her phone, as usual, probably flirting with her latest boyfriend. Not that I had room to judge, I was in a pretty serious relationship myself, well, serious by my standards, probably pretty tame by other girls my age. Still, I didn’t know if I liked her latest crush who had been kind of pushy from the look of the few texts I peeked. She was too young for that if anyone asked me, of course no one did.
“One side, please,” I said moving by. She didn’t budge. Why did this ‘respect your elders’ stuff only work one way? I squeezed through.
 
I nearly tripped over my brother’s socks that he left in the hallway.. again! I kicked them into his room, the door of which was open enough to do so.
“Hey!” His voice came out annoyed.
“Stop leaving them in the hallway,” I huffed.
“if it bothers you, why don’t you do my laundry and help me out?” His voice was smug.
 
I peeked in to shoot him a look, “We’re all victims of the Patriarchy to some degree, but you’re more like a collaborator, and collaborators get shot when the revolution comes. Just saying.” My voice was sing song as I went on down the hall towards the kitchen.
Obviously I would never shoot my family. But he actually thought I might do HIS laundry, so who was the one deeper in the land of make believe? Not this girl, that’s for sure. My brother was trying to make some snide retort, but I tuned him out. I love the jerk, but his banter sucked. That was yet another reason why he’d never be a superhero! That plus his pro-patriarchy behavior, and lack of costume fashion sense, and, of course, the whole ‘no powers’ thing.
 
Finally I got to the kitchen. My family kitchen is a magical place. My grandmother thinks I’m not traditional enough and I guess I’m not. My Cantonese is terrible, for example. But even I was a bit in awe at all the cool old stuff decorating the kitchen or utensils waiting to be used. A lot of these had been in my family for generations! There were doodads to bring good luck, and pots for practical cooking. But among the most precious things was the tea cups reserved for my grandmother. They went all the way back to the expansion of the old west. That’s right, some folks in my family line had helped connect the eastern and western halves of a still very young United States by rail.
 
Related to that, I have a grand uncle who acts like the only English he knows is “You’re welcome” which is what he says to every white person he meets for the first time. He knows more English than that, of course, but he gets a kick out of it. Grandmother finds it childish. He just sticks his tongue out.
 
I guess siblings driving you crazy happens to every generation.
 
Oh, where was I? Oh right, the tea set. They were beautiful. Patterns had been gracefully crafted into the elegant material. There were symbols for both home and travel in there, a sign of the long journeys taken by many of my family to find a new home where we could prosper. Grandmother had been very fussy about anyone else getting to drink from this tea set.
 
She’s very superstitious and was afraid if someone drank from them while too young, they would be driven to travel and try crazy things before finally settling down like our ancestors did when they came to America. She absolutely forbade anyone from drinking from it until they were 18 years old.
I stole a sip from one when she wasn’t looking when I was seven and never told her.
If I were as superstitious as she, I’d think that’s how I got my bouncing field and my life as a superhero. But frankly, I never was as into the study of ancestral mysticism as she hoped I’d be. It was a silly girlish act of rebellion, nothing more. It was the forbidden, and thus the best tea I’d ever tasted.
 
“Here, Mama,” I announced myself dutifully and grabbed the tea set, “Sorry I was late. Had to run the gauntlet.”
 
“Thank you, Caihong,” Mother replied with relief at the aid. Her hands were indeed full, and a bit bloody! It was kind of odd. My mom’s rather pretty, at least I think so. She has bright eyes and a gentle smile. The bloody hands contrasted with that in a way that most would find creepy.
 
“That’s a lot of pork,” I observed. Stating the obvious is one of my many talents, “You should get one of us to help you with the cooking, mama.”
 
“I take it your siblings are NOT tending to their studies like they said they were?” She arched a brow. She didn’t seem that upset, or surprised.
 
I winced, “Mama, you know how when I was younger they thought I was a tattletale, a squealer, a snitch, a blabbermouth…”
 
Mom tutted, “I’ll take that as a yes. Go to your grandmother now, and indulge her humors,” More gently, “She’s having trouble lately, Caihong. She would never admit to her pain or confusion, but it shows. I know you don’t like her lectures, but I want you to know she does them out of love. Her discomfort may make them a bit worse. And I am sorry.”
 
“Mama, you don’t need to apologize,” I started to say, but she shook her head and made a zip motion with a bloody finger. Mama is one of the few folks who seems to be able to cut me off while I start up. Ask anyone, I’m a babbler, I can’t help it. Thoughts enter my head and then they have little thought babies and soon my brain has a whole nation of thoughts and they’re all very loud. Then to quiet them I just have to rattle them out through my mouth and that’s how I lose friends.
 
But my mother had a gift for helping me reign it in.
 
“But I do,” She said, “You are a good daughter. A good grand daughter. Yes, you vanish at odd hours, yes you are often late for events. And I confess, I had my doubts about your boyfriend, but I’ve been placated, mostly. But you give your everything to everyone and everything you love, and you love your family very much. You are a helper, and I am proud of you. But I am the daughter in law with a daughter’s duties, not you, and it is unfair of me to lean on you so much when it comes to her.”
 
If mother’s skull had split open and four great white cranes had stepped out, I’m not sure I would have been more surprised. Wait, was she saying I was the responsible one? I guess I was, but I never felt like it. I mean, how much did my siblings suck that I got saddled with that one? I thought of all the times I’d ducked out to go fighting crime. I remembered every moment I lied to their faces to make a cover story. It was to save lives, but it was still a lie.
 
I should be overjoyed at the praise but instead my belly knotted a little. I didn’t feel like the good daughter. I felt like I was, at best, the one who put on a good show. Heck, I hoped to go to Canada in a few years. Who would help mom then? Who would..
“The tea’s getting cold,” My mother motioned.
 
If mama hoped to shoo me off before I could protest, she had severely neglected my ability to move and talk at the same time. Taking the tea set up carefully I turned but also talked, “You’re a great mother, and a good daughter in law. You’re always there for us, and the fact you might need help now and then doesn’t mean you failed, it means you’re human. Even superheroes need a team, mama, and they have like superpowers, though some have amazing kinetic powers and others are stuck with water-breathing, they all chip in. That’s how they win! And that’s how families win too. I have a wedding to be at this week, but after that we’re going to talk about how you work too hard when you’ve got THREE healthy grown up children to assist you.”
 
Rather than looking guilty or sad, or even mad I was lipping off and telling her how wrong she as, mom looked amused. Like she just thought I was the cutest most delightful thing in the world. So annoying “I mean it!” I said a bit less calm about it than I meant to.
She reigned in that expression, but the gentleness remained, “I know you do. Go on, my CaiCai. I’ll put your siblings to work. Even it is hard to picture any of us in capes.”
 
I could feel the blush rudely disobeying my mental orders to stay off my cheeks. Mother hadn’t called me Cai Cai in quite a long time. Bobbing my head, I turned and took the tea set in my hands on my way to my grandmother.
Once again, my mother’s voice pierced the barriers of the walls summoning my sister and brother to get into the kitchen NOW and stop goofing off!
I could hear them scramble to attend. Good thing. If they brushed mama off, I’d have made their lives hell. Such is the danger of arousing a dark vigilante’s furious wrathful..err wrath!
 
 
(TBC)

Hermit have hit 25,000! The half way mark! PUNY NANOWRIMO! YOU SEEK TO CHALLENGE HERMIT?
Rarh! Hermit care nothing for Plot! Hermit no need grammar! Hermit no kare spellin!
No, Hermit make WORD THINGS! HE MAKE WORD THINGS GO!
 
*storms off to desert mesa amid the wreckage and debris of the English language*
 
 

I thought it was very good.  It had action, humor, good character development / background expose, and captured the characters involved quite well, IMO.  Thank you, and I'm looking forward to the next installment.  Who's up to bat next?

I thought it was very good.  It had action, humor, good character development / background expose, and captured the characters involved quite well, IMO.  Thank you, and I'm looking forward to the next installment.  Who's up to bat next?