When We Dead
Awaken
A Round Robin
Story
Begun by Brantley
Thompson Elkins and others at Superwomenmania, continued at The Bright Empire
I
If shed been in her right mind, shed
have realized the fundamental absurdity of her situation. But Caramel Fox wasnt
in her right mind. She didnt even know what being in her right mind meant; she
could remember no other existence.
Had she really been eaten alive by the
Slime Monster just yesterday? Or torn to shreds by the Black Devil? Then what
was she doing here now, still intact? She knew that she had been violated; she
was still sore down there. It must have been the Black Devil, then; since the
Slime Monster didnt even have a.
At that very thought, the soreness faded.
She sensed it was a bad omen, a warning that her respite would be brief. A new
assault was surely coming, although she could see no sign of it. She looked
around her: all seemed normal. She was in her bedroom; the bed on which she lay
was in its proper place. The night table, the dresser, the lamps, the mirror
and the other furnishings were likewise in their proper places.
She saw that she was wearing her costume,
a skimpy caramel-colored affair. Her breasts nearly overflowed the top, and the
bottom barely covered her nether parts. She must have slept in it, she
supposed, after whatever had happened to her before. Had she been out on a
mission before the Black Devil?
She suddenly realized she couldnt
remember having been
on a mission, although it was her duty to Wasnt that what superheroines did:
use their super powers to What were her powers? She couldnt remember.
Strangely, she couldnt even remember wondering about such things before. How
could this be?
While she was trying to focus her mind on
that, a man stepped through her mirror.
They usually came through the door. They
were usually monsters.
Weve got the webcam on a loop, the man
said. Youd better come now.
But?
She wasnt objecting; she was just
confused.
Youll see them again, in due course. But the next time they see you, it wont be you. Not the you they know.
He held out his hand. Because she was
used to obedience, she took it.
II
Shed expected to find herself in a
dungeon, or some mad doctors laboratory, or even aboard an alien spaceship.
That was how it always was.
Instead, she seemed to be in some sort of
private office.
The room was large and spacious, one wall
lined with flat screen monitors. Some showed what appeared to be news or
educational programs, others tables and graphs with equations of some sort
running across the bottom.
In the center of the room was what looked
like a cross between a desk and a circular table, with a personal computer on a
dolly at the center. Instead of chairs, there was a ring of seats attached to
the central axis. There were storage slots between the seats.
One of the other walls was apparently a
picture window of polarized glass; she could see the sun against it without
discomfort. Yet another was devoted to displays of objets dart in no form or
style she recognized. She looked behind her, at the fourth wall. There was no
sign of the mirror, only a shimmering in the air that quickly faded. Against
tha wall, a sofa.
Youre safe now, the man told her. Dr.
Conroy, it said on his name tag. She had no idea what kind of Dr. he might
be. Youll be able to return to that other world if you wish. But only when
youre ready to face them.
Conroy was tall, about her own height,
six feet or so. Dark hair, chiseled features, well toned body, but not
overmuscular. He looked the big screen secret agent type. But where had she
ever seen the big screen secret agent type?
Return? Where am I now? Where is this?
New York. Earth W27. One of the better
timelines, as the one where you were stranded is one of the worst.
Stranded?
You really dont remember, do you? Damn
them! If it were up to me, wed go in there with heavy weapons and clean out
the whole lot. But it isnt up to me. Even though we can get them now for
trafficking in stolen technology.
Stolen?
The mind control stuff they used on you.
They could never have thought up anything like that themselves.
He must have seen the confusion on her
face.
Im sorry, he said. You cant believe
how sorry I am. We should have found you long before this. But its going to be
all right. I swear it.
The man took her in his arms, tried to
comfort her, but she began to tremble uncontrollably. So he released her.
They really got to you, didnt they?
That bad.
There were actually tears in his eyes.
Well, theyll pay. And youll make them
pay. I know you cant believe that now, but its true.
III, by Argonaut
The dark-haired man sat at his desk,
sipping cold coffee from a styrofoam cup. Files and dossiers -- all demanding
his immediate attention -- were stacked by his left elbow, but for the past
fifteen minutes he had been staring at a single sheet of paper positioned
neatly in the center of the desktop.
SUBJECT: Caramel Fox, was written at
the top of the sheet.
The rest of the page was blank.
REAL NAME ... TIMELINE ... PERSONAL HISTORY
... KNOWN ALLIES / GROUP AFFILIATION ... NATURE AND ORIGIN OF POWERS ...
Except for a name whose authenticity he doubted, absolutely nothing was known
of the young woman whom he had rescued the previous afternoon. She was tabula rasa -- a blank slate.
He frowned, remembering the fear in her
eyes -- constantly darting back and forth, never meeting his own. Instead of
feeling relief at her rescue, she appeared to think it was a cruel deception on
the part of her tormentors, intended to make the next round of pain and
humiliation seem all the more acute. As Janet, the Crosstime Centers head
psychologist, had conducted the trembling young woman out of his office and
toward the dormitory wing, the man wondered whether in rescuing Caramel Fox he
had merely replaced one kind of torment with another.
Thats when he had sent for Arda Gand.
Arda Gand was a third-generation
Legionnaire whose forebears included Mon-El and Saturn Girl – and who had
inherited the powers of both. An experienced superheroine and a skilled
telepath, she was uniquely qualified to serve as a consultant on the Centers
more difficult cases. And the year she had endured in Darkseids dungeons had
given her a very personal interest in the Centers mission.
The man drank the last of the coffee and
turned to drop the empty cup in a wastebasket. There was a tap at the door.
Good morning, Steve.
Arda Gand -- a tall, strikingly
attractive blonde wearing an outfit similar to her grandmothers Saturn Girl
costume -- stood in the doorway.
Ah, good morning, Arda. The man rose
and extended his hand. Thank you for coming. He gestured at a chair and they
both sat down. So ... how are things in the thirty-first century?
Fairly quiet -- though of course I can
only speak for my own timeline. But Ive got to be getting back soon. There are
rumors that the Emerald Empress is recruiting a new Fatal Five.
The man nodded. So much for small talk, he thought. So what can you tell me
about our mystery woman?
Very little, Im afraid, Arda Gand
replied. Whoever did the mindwipe was very thorough and covered their tracks
very carefully. This girls mind is a labyrinth of firewalls. I could penetrate
them easily enough, but not without doing irreparable damage to her psyche.
The man looked down at the sheet of paper
on his desk. A wave of hopelessness threatened to engulf him as he contemplated
the blank spaces.
But I can tell you this much, Arda Gand
continued. Whoever she is, whatever timeline she comes from, shes a dedicated
and experienced superheroine. Thats so fundamental to her self-concept -- so
inextricably woven into her psyche -- that not even these bastards could wipe
it from her mind. Theres a thought that keeps running like a bass line through
all her fear and confusion -- Im
supposed to be helping others
... even though the only others she can remember did nothing but torture and
humiliate her.
Arda Gand paused. She knew what had
driven the man to make this his lifes work – and it didnt take a
telepath to know what he was thinking right now. Youre right, she said
gently. Karen was like that, too.
The man cleared his throat. So what
now? he asked. What can we do for her?
Arda Gand leaned forward and put her hand
over his. I know you want to make things better right away, she said. But
believe me, this wont be a quick fix. She will
recover her memories, she will be ready to return to her own timeline
– but shell have to do it herself, and it will take time. But I promise,
it will happen. This girl has tremendous strength of
will. The fact that shes managed to hold on to even a shred of her identity
during her ordeal is proof of that. Hell, Ive met Green Lanterns with less
will-power than shes got.
She stood up. Ive got to be getting
back to the thirty-first century, she said. Ill talk with Janet before I go,
and Ill be back for a follow-up as soon as I can. She paused. Actually, I do
have one suggestion.
The man looked at her expectantly.
Find her a mentor, Arda Gand said.
Someone to be her friend, her confidant, her supporter. A supergirl her own
age, to help her re-establish her identity as a superheroine. Someone
sympathetic yet outgoing, to help her re-connect with the outside world -- when
shes ready.
Something tells me you have someone in
mind.
As a matter of fact, she said, I do.
She picked up a pen and memorandum pad from the desk. She wrote down a name,
tore the page from the pad, and placed it face down on the desk.
One last thing, she said. Whoever did
this to her didnt go to all that trouble just to get away with robbing banks.
I sense that her abduction is part of something huge -- and that Caramel Fox
will play a crucial role in the ultimate fate of her timeline. Call it my
superwomans intuition.
The man sat, deep in thought, as Arda
Gand left his office and the sound of her footsteps faded down the corridor.
Finally, he turned over the memorandum page she had left on the desk. The
corners of his mouth twitched as he read the name she had written.
Perfect, he said. I wonder if shes
available?
IV, by CK
Shed tried to come up with a better
phrase, she thought long and hard, but nothing else came to mind, at least that
could displace this.
How can this be real?
Only weeks before shed been walking down
the same streets of New Amsterdam, now she was told that she was in New York
and every fourth building was different. Neighborhoods which she knew were
crime ridden places to avoid were amazingly clean. The World Trade center was
gone, but the Statue of Liberty was intact.
She looked like a tourist, her head
moving around like a nodding dogs, her eyes wide and mouth open in reaction to
the latest revelation. Her rescuers had judged her ready to leave their
protection, at least for a day so she could walk around and perhaps get her bearings
or trigger a memory. Its been a couple of weeks since shed been brought here,
and they admitted it might take awhile for her memories to return, but Caramel
didnt feel that shed ever remember being the Her they claimed she actually
was... were... is...
She clutched her head and groaned. Things
werent getting easy, but shed always jokingly referred to thinking with her
fists and had a hard time with thinking things out. Now though she didnt know
if the mind control had made her this way, or that she was always like this.
The second guessing was driving her batty.
She spent most of the remainder of the
day in the City Library, in an effort to learn more about home, even if dread
settled in her heart. Like the city itself, large portions of history were as
she expected, but just as things seemed sane shed hit upon something that
jarred her senses like a tooth ache. She couldnt get her mind around the fact
that here that instead of America desperately bombing Germany to stop nuclear
powered V2s, here America used a nuclear bomb against the Japanese.
The finally straw that caused her to look
no further was when she learned that on 20th of July 1969 that Alexei Leonov of
the Soviet Union didnt land on the Moon, that the Americans beat them, she ran.
When she stopped she discovered she was
in Central Park, seemingly her Central Park. Like everything else in this New
York there were a few differences, statues dedicated to different people, but
enough was the same, clinched when she saw the hot dog vendor outside Central
Park Zoo in the same place he always was, who didnt recognize her but was
still able to tell by looking at her preferred fare.
So she sat at a bench overlooking the
water, slowly eating and reflecting that something so simple as a Coke and
Hot-Dog with the lot minus onions made her feel more at home than anything to
date. Despite the feeling of being a stranger in a strange land, there was much
to like here. This might not feel like home, even if it was meant to be, but
it was certainly better than where she was before and for the moment that was
enough.
As the sun began to set, Caramel made her
way back, almost walking straight past two thugs threatening a young college
student. Acting entirely on instinct, she almost tore open the sweater she was
wearing until she remembered the only thing under there was a rather plain if
overstrained sports bra.
A little voice at the back of her mind
said she couldnt engage in superheroics if she wasnt wearing her costume, but
the screaming of the girl...
Get away from her
Everybody stopped dead. Caramel blinked
as she realize shed actually said that, three pairs of eyes turning towards
her. The two animals stood and released the young woman they were molesting and
let out wolf-whistles at the sight of her, but that was nothing new given-
Jeez! Look it the size that whores
boobs! Get em out baby, I want to suckle!
It ran like script, as always. Criminals
appeared to be a breast-obsessed lot, and she knew what was next to come,
theyd grope them and itd all be over. Yet what else could she do?
Once again she blinked as she realized
she snatched his hand out of mid-air before it could come into contact with her
chest, beginning to crush it in her grip. As her would be attacker screamed she
snapped her arm back and released, sending him across the alley to a hard
landing against a brownstone wall.
She spun on her heel as her right leg
snapped out and caught the other thug in the chest, sending him skidding down
the pavement and out of alley. Back in the other place her powers had seemed to
be spotty at best, fading at the worse possible times, but here she had no
trouble in dispatching them with ease. Thus she waited, waited for what
normally occurred, only to have the victim hug her and give her an endless
stream of thank yous.
Once again Caramel Fox began to shake as
she was confronted with things which didnt make sense. The two thugs hadnt
turned into sex crazed demons, aliens seeking to probe her, tentacle beasts or
anything. Nothing attacked her from behind. Hell, even the woman she saved
hadnt insisted on giving her a special thank-you. As the police arrived and
the woman received proper attention she wavered unsteady on her feet as she
tried to take it all in. She turned and soared into the sky, tears streaming
down her face as that same phrase rebounding in her head
How can this be real?
V, by Spulo
Caramel sat on the roof of the highest
building shed been able to find, staring down at the city hundreds of feet
below. Her tears had long since dried up, and had fallen silently into a world
that seemed too busy to notice her.
The darkness of the night felt somehow
comforting to her - like a blanket she could wrap herself in to disappear from
this strange world. Nice, compared with what she was used to, but still
strange.
One phrase kept replaying itself over and
over - This isnt
your world. No matter
how nice it felt not to be abused and violated at the hands, claws, and
tentacles of her enemies, she still felt like an alien, and she knew she always
would.
As alien as I did when I
first...
...when I first...what?
A very small part of her wanted to tear
the city apart out of sheer frustration, to find some answers...some clues as
to who she was...but she knew it wouldnt do any good. No-one down there knew
who she was.
Nobody cared.
Caramel?
The sudden voice had brought Caramel out
of her thoughts, but she didnt turn around. Gentle footsteps approached her,
until she became aware of another woman sitting down beside her. Do you mind if
I join you?
Caramel turned her head...the woman was
like her, she realized. A superheroine. But her eyes werent examining the
woman... Caramel was more interested in the costume she wore. Silver top,
silver shorts... and a long blue cape. Her hand reached out for the cape, and
the woman didnt try to stop her as Caramel took hold of it, running the
material between her hands.
I had a costume... she said quietly.
The woman smiled. Tell me about it,
Caramel. What was your costume like?
It was...it... Caramel fell silent,
unable to remember. It had a cape. I remember that... Then she realized
something. How did you know my name?
They sent me. the woman explained. To
look after you.
This was what Caramel had been longing
for - theyd promised to find someone her own age that she could talk to, a
superhero like her...but now that that person was here, Caramel felt nervous.
Oh, no, you dont need to trouble yourself-
Hey, its no trouble at all. the woman
replied. Theyve explained to me about you, and...well, I wanna help.
Caramel looked up, and studied the
womans face for the first time. She seemed... nice. Friendly and gentle...
Caramel wasnt used to that. Youre beautiful. she whispered.
The woman smiled warmly. Thats very
sweet of you to say. Thank you.
Caramel suddenly shook her head. But
this is wrong!
What is?
You, me...us, talking like were...
Friends? the woman suggested.
Exactly, friends! You should be...
humiliating me, hurting me...
Why on Earth would I wanna do that?
Caramel paused – why should that be
the way it is? She gave the only answer she could. Because...thats all I
know. Thats what Im used to...
She flinched a little as she suddenly
felt the womans hand on her shoulder. I just want to touch you. the woman
told her quietly. Hold you. Not hurt you.
Caramel looked into the womans
eyes...and saw nothing in them but honesty, and concern for her. She gave a
little nod, and the woman put her arm around her. Youre a nervous little
thing, arent you?
Who are you? Caramel asked.
The woman smiled. Omega Girl. she
replied proudly.
No... you. The person inside the
costume. The real you.
My real name is Ezusi.
Ezusi... Caramel whispered the name to
herself a few times. Its an unusual name.
Its not an Earth name.
Youre not from Earth?
Ezusi shook her head. My world... my
world is gone. Sucked into a black hole. I came here because I had nowhere else
to go...
Caramel felt terrible. I... Im
sorry...
I could count on one hand the number of
people who know all that...
Oh, I wont tell anyone, I promise.
Ezusi smiled. Thanks, Caramel. Caramel
felt Ezusis hand rub her back softly...it felt nice. It was all a long time
ago...but it still hurts. Thats why I want to help you. I remember what its
like, arriving here and knowing nothing and no one. Id rather you didnt go
through all that alone.
Ezusi?
Yes, Caramel?
...for the first time that I can
remember... certainly for the first time since Ive arrived here... I trust. I
trust you. Oh, dont get me wrong, everyones been nice to me, but—
But it helps to know there are others
like you. Ezusi smiled. Believe me, I understand, and Im glad I could help.
Now...I know you already have a room at the Center, and theyre looking after
you...but...well...
I would. Caramel said quickly.
Would what?
Would... like to stay with you... Im
sorry, I-I thought that was what you were offering...
Ezusi smiled. That is what Im offering.
You can come and stay with me, and... and well find out who you are, OK? I
promise you that.
Caramel had heard those words before,
but...this was the first time she actually believed them. Thank you. she
whispered.
Ezusi smiled, and got to her feet. You
can fly, right? Caramel nodded. Good. Follow me.
Ezusi Omega Girl took off into the night
sky, and Caramel followed close behind... happy that she now had someone she
could call a friend.
VI, by Brantley
I
love this city, Ezusi said as she soared over New York with Caramel. Theres
no other place like it on Earth. There wasnt any place like it on Maailma.
That
was your world?
Yes.
What
was it like?
Post-industrial.
Like one huge park, homes made of glass, personal flyers to get around,
everything solar and wind-powered, underground nanofactories to supply all our
needs. It was nice. And safe. So safe there wasnt much for people like me to
do.
Still,
it must hurt.
Of
course it hurts. I lost my family.
Everyone I knew. But I didnt really know that many people. Not personally – all the rest were
virtual. Thats whats different here. Theres people all around. Real people.
I
cant remember just people where Steve took me from. I cant remember where I
came from in the first place. Just my name.
It
must hurt to lose your very self. They told about that. And somebody did it to you. Maailma was just a cosmic accident. Unless you think the
universe—
Something
below had suddenly caught her attention.
Theres
a crash down there at 14th and Broadway. A bad one. Better get on it.
It
was a bad one, all right – an SUV had crashed into the left side of a
limo. Police and rescue workers would be on the way, but they werent there
yet.
Ill
separate the cars, Ezusi told Caramel. You tear the doors off the limo. But
let me get the people out; Im used to this.
Caramel
did as she was told, wrenching loose the limo doors as Omega Girl, after
pulling the SUV back, saw to the passengers in that vehicle. A crowd had
gathered, and people were pointing at her, although she wasnt sure why.
Exusi
had carefully freed the driver of the SUV and the woman next to him, probably
his wife or girlfriend. Their airbags had worked; they didnt seem to be badly
hurt, but she laid them down carefully on the pavement and told them not to
move. But they too looked strangely at Caramel.
Theyre
not used to seeing a superheroine in civvies, Ezusi explained quickly.
Anyway, everybody already knows me.
Things
looked a lot worse for the limo driver and his left side passenger. They were
bleeding, and in obvious shock. Broken left shoulders, the both of them,
Ezusi called back to Caramel.
There
was the sound of sirens, and flashing red and blue lights came into view a few
moments later. Caramel saw that Ezusi was being extra careful with the two
victims from the limo; a second passenger had managed to get out on his own.
Ezusi was staring at the driver, and it took another moment for Caramel to
realize that she was using her heat vision to cauterize the bleeding wound. She
did the same with the passenger.
Caramel
was vaguely aware that her clothes had been torn from dealing with the limo
doors, but only now did she look down and realize that her shirt was torn and
her breasts were hanging out. Some of the male onlookers had pulled out their
cell phones – shed learned what those were only after coming to New York
– and holding them up at her. They were grinning.
When
the ambulance people took charge of the victims, Caramel asked Ezusi about
that. Are they all calling their friends to talk about the accident?
Ezusi
glanced at them.
Shit,
she told Caramel. Theyre taking your picture.
Then
she turned to the offenders.
You
know who I am, she barked. Is that how youd treat me?
They
started dropping their cellphones like hot potatoes, because they really were getting hot. Heat vision again. None of the
offenders protested, except for the yelps when they dropped the devices. They
just slunk away.
Thanks,
Caramel said softly to her friend as they were about to take off.
I
may have been too late, Ezusi said. Even even one of them had already left
well, your assets are about to go viral.
Whats
viral?
Oh,
Caramel said after Ezusi explained.
Not
that theyll be able to do anything besides beat off to the pictures. This
isnt like the world you came from. But well have to get you an outfit. A real outfit thatll stand up to anything, like you can.
Anyway, it could have been worse – like, if this had been a fire and your
civvies had been totally burned.
Oh,
said Caramel again.
Of
course, some of us expose ourselves in magazines; helps pay the rent. Or we
cater to special admirers.
You
mean
They
can do more than look, if we choose to enfold them in our auras.
Auras?
Ezusi
explained, about how superheroines could briefly share their powers with men
who appealed to them and thus share hot sex without risking any damage to
their egos, not to mention their male members.
I
dont want to talk about that, Caramel said. She didnt even want to think
about men touching her. In her mind she
knew that things were different in this world, but in her heart
Ezusi
was disappointed, but understanding. It must have been worse than I could
imagine, she said.
Caramel
only nodded, trying to suppress the terrible memories of that other world.
Maybe if Conroy and Arda Gand had some new leads about where she had come from,
or what had really happened to her
But
when she checked in again at the Crosstime Center, Arda still hadnt made a
return visit from the 31st Century and the good doctor didnt have
any more leads. Conroy was apologetic, and invited her out to dinner at an
Italian restaurant. She didnt even bother looking at the menu before telling
him shed have chicken francese with psketti.
Psketti?
You mean spaghetti?
No,
psketti.
Only
children call it that.
Everybody
calls it
And
then it dawned on her.
Where
I come from, everybody calls it that.
There
arent many timelines where thats happened, Steve said. Although there are
other examples of whats called metathesis, where letters are reversed. Some
people in the South here and elsewhere say aks instead of ask.
Caramel
shook her head.
Not
where I come from.
That
narrows it down where you come from, do they ever say a whole nother thing?
Caremel
shook her head again.
The
thing is, there are regional variations in each timeline – after all,
they arent just cities, theyre entire worlds.
I
told you right off about New Amsterdam and the Statue of Liberty.
Only,
we know about hundreds of New
Amsterdams, and in more than half of those well, the Statue of Liberty was a
more obvious target than the World Trade Center. Its the same with most of the
thousands of New Yorks we know about.
Can
you possibly
It
will take time. It would easier if there were some way to unlock your memory.
Arda had a suggestion that might help.
VII
It
was six months later, in Washington Square Park.
Caramel
Fox was out for a walk during a break with Brian Stinson, one of her classmates
in a freshman course on Cognition at New York University. Arda Gand, on here
last visit to W27, had thought it might help her understand how to recover her
lost memories.
Brian
didnt know that. He didnt even know she was Caramel Fox. Steve had set her up
with a secret identity, Tricia Braverman, and advanced her the NYU registration
fees. She had felt nervous about that, until he explained that she could pay
the Center back from earnings for work so dangerous ordinary people couldnt or
wouldnt touch it.
Like
rescuing motorists trapped in a surprise blizzard in Wyoming, or retrieving the
black box from a plane that had gone down in 20,000 feet of water in the
Atlantic. That second mission had taught her something she should have known
all along but had somehow overlooked: superheroines couldnt be everywhere, or
anticipate everything, or save everyone.
Shed
tried to avoid looking at the dead bodies at the bottom of the sea, but some
were visible from the broken tail section where the black (actually bright
orange) box was located. It gave her the shakes, but shed done her job, and
maybe the data would prevent another such crash. She hoped so. Shed also
managed to avoid photographers, even the cell phone fanatics, on both those
major missions and on more routine outings with Ezusi here in the city. It was
Ezusi who had gotten her the black wig on the sly, and taught her how to use
makeup to the best effect in disguising herself.
Brian
was an odd young black man from Queens, odd because he didnt seem to have any
interest in rap or basketball or any of the other things young black men were
supposed to be interested in. He seemed to be a loner, and that drew her to him
because she too was a loner herself in the campus environment.
She
soon discovered that Brian was really into the Cognition course, and that was
another plus for her. Hed bend her ear with arguments about epistemology, like
whether Wittgenstein had trumped Aristotle with the observation that a game
cant be defined as precisely as a triangle.
Isnt
the Aristotelian definition of a triangle is still valid? Caramel asked. That
sort of thing had been new to her; shed never been into philosophy – at
least, not that she could remember. A triangle is a three-sided, closed
figure, the sum of whose interior angles is 180 degrees.
But
Wittgenstein showed that a lot of things which may seem to be connected by an
essential common feature may really be connected only by a series of
overlapping similarities, with no one feature is common to all. What do card
games, board games and ball games have in common? Or X-box games, for that
matter? Its all a matter of family resemblances.
Only,
whenever were talking about games, we know which games were talking about.
Exactly.
Its all a matter of context.
Theyd
had a few study dates. Strictly study dates. She was still nervous when it came
to men, although she didnt want to admit it. Ezusi had tried to get her to
come to some dance parties – raves, they were called – where the
men invited were only the kind who were into superwomen and who superwomen wanted
into them, but she had begged off.
Brian
had never tried to come on to her. At first she had thought he might be gay,
but she had later caught him staring at the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. And hed glance furtively at other women – perhaps he
was just shy. Whatever. He still hadnt made any moves on her. She should be
grateful for that. And yet...
It
was the usual sort of afternoon crowd, people out for the air and the trees and
the playground, if they were so inclined. Some were walking their dogs; others
were gathered around the fountain. Right by the Arch, about 30 feet away, there
was a bunch of Lyndon LaRouche supporters demanding the impeachment of
President McCain.
A
rather surly-looking man carrying a book bag had been glancing at a LaRouche
flyer. He suddenly looked in their direction, stared at Brian as if he
recognized him, then seemed to come to some sort of decision.
I
am driven by the fury of my own momentum! he shouted, and reached into the
bag, pulling out a gun.
Caramel
stepped in front of Brian before the man could fire, and felt the bullet dimple
her left breast. His second shot hit her in the belly.
Drop
it, before you hurt somebody! she yelled, fearful that ricochets might hit
bystanders. The man appeared rooted to the spot, uncomprehending, and kept
firing. She began to move forward to reach for the gun, then held back, fearful
of exposing Brian.
Of
a sudden, the man put it to his head and blew his brains out.
I
should have gone for him, Caramel chastised
herself.
But
then she thought of Brian
She
turned and saw that he was staring. The bullets had torn into her clothing
– exposing her flesh and her true nature...
The
crowd was reacting, people were scattering. Even the LaRouche people had ducked
behind the Arch, leaving their table with its signs and flyers behind.
Had
the man really been after Brian, or was he just crazy? And could there be any
more shooters somewhere in the square?
Brian
was exposed. So was she. And in a few moments, it was going to be a mob scene,
with cops and then the media
Caramel
made a quick decision.
Weve
got to get out of here, she told Brian; then, taking him in her arms, she rose
into the air – slowly at first, then with gathering speed.
She
could tell that he was terrified; he was shaking against her, he had closed his
eyes tight and seemed unable to say a word.
Caramel
flew him to an isolated spot in Palisades Park, across the Hudson River. Only
when she set him down did he recover his wits and his voice.
My
family
Where?
He
told her, and she called the cops on her wristphone. She identified herself by
name and code, and she could practically imagine them snapping to attention at
the other end.
Well
get right on it, the lieutenant she was transferred to said after she told him
about the situation and asked him to have a watch put on the Stinsons. She
asked him to hold a minute, and turned to Brian.
Do
you know anyone specific who might be after you or your family?
Brian
shook his head.
You
never know who you might piss off, without even knowing youre pissing them
off, he said. My father drives a bus, had a run-in with a while back with a
rider over a transfer. Bus drivers have gotten shot over stuff like that. But
only then and there. And the guy on the bus wasnt white like the one at the
park Even if it had been the same guy, how would he know who I was, anyway, or
where to find me? None of it makes any sense.
Not
to me, either. He must have been delusional. Cognitive disorder.
That
drew a smile from Brian. He must be over his fear. But now he was staring at
her again, as he had in the park. Staring, not in shock or surprise, but in
wonder and
Her
civvies were much the worse for wear, her slacks torn from the flight, her top
peppered with bullet holes, some torn larger by the rush of the air. She
glanced down at herself; she hadnt been wearing a bra, never having needed
one, and her left breast was exposed.
Looking
back at Brian, she could tell that he was embarrassed. And not because his own
clothes were a mess.
I
thought back there that I must be
delusional. But this has to be real. You have to be real. One of them.
Well,
my secret identity worked, she said, trying to make light of the situation. I
was always afraid I might give myself away.
You
never did. Did I?
Did
you what?
Was
he blushing? It was hard to tell with
black people. She was wondering how she knew that as he spoke.
Ever
give away how I was thinking about you?
It
took me a while to figure out that you were straight. It was when I saw that
you looked at other women. And pictures.
He
was definitely blushing, just a slight shade darker.
I
just thought that a woman as beautiful as you she must get stared at by so
many guys she doesnt know and doesnt even want to know, some real assholes. There were guys from the Hood whod stare
at my sister Keisha like that, before she moved out West to take a job –
she found a husband there, too. Anyway, I thought you deserved better than
that. And those girls Id look at Id never make a show of it, never get in
their faces. But you were face to face with me a lot. That made a difference.
It really did. Only now its worse.
Worse?
You
know what I mean. That youre one of these superwomen. Everybodys hot for
them, even if theyre unattainable.
VIII
What
do you mean, Im not helping?
I
mean, youre not helping. Why is that, Hillary?
The
front runner for the Democratic nomination managed to keep her composure, even
though hed just thoroughly trashed her economic recovery plan. That pissed off
Vick Walters, but he managed to keep his own composure.
I
think its up to the voters to decide who can help the country and who cant,
Clinton said evenly, ignoring his taunt. Shall we leave it at that?
Walters
didnt want to leave it at that, but his half-hour show was almost up and he
didnt have much choice. If McCain didnt get his ass in gear, this woman
might end up in the White House. Thered be no stopping her if the economy
tanked again.
If
only she knew that he was diverting himself with a fantasy of raping Chelsea
while Hillary watched helplessly. Chelsea was no prize, but to utterly
humiliate her and her mother – that really got his juices flowing.
Thank
you, he said – not to her, actually, but to his millions of fans. Its
been a pleasure having you here.
Nobody
would get the double entendre. Nobody would even suspect. This was all about politics, not sex. He was thinking about sex, of course, but not the kind that
Hillary Clinton could imagine – or that he could actually indulge in,
here or anywhere. Walters and others like him had to be very careful, keep
everything offline, use unknowing mules to transport the videos from timelines
where they werent illegal – any more than child sex trafficking.
The
DVDs came by snail mail from one member of the group to another, and they were
always disguised as business and industrial promotions. Anybody outside the
group who, by very remote chance, happened to load one of them, would see
nothing but puff jobs for products like infused grapeseed oil, artichoke
pizzas, champagne shower gels and squid casseroles. You had to click on a
contact icon and enter a password to
When
he got back to his Upper West Side apartment, which was as soon as he could
without seeming too much in a hurry, he
hunted up the DVD for Mamma Mias Meats, which was supposed to be about retail
promotion of its spicy meatballs – and how its PR agency, Catalytics,
can help you achieve the same great results.
Walters
didnt waste any time entering the code, and in a few seconds he was watching
the Black Devil tear Caramel Fox to shreds. Not literally, of course; shed
have to be available for other videos. But the tech people in this timeline
– members called it World 666 on occasions they met one another –
were as skilled in trick videography as they were in mind control. What Caramel
believed she was experiencing was faithfully captured on screen.
He
came hard as he watched the Black Devil rip off her right leg and gnaw on it,
and came even harder when he tore off her breasts and ate them. Hunger
satisfied, he popped out the video, repackaged it, and squirreled it away in
his collection – most of which consisted of perfectly legitimate dramas,
situation comedies and documentaries.
Only
then did he catch up with the snail mail. One seemed to be a fund-raising
appeal from the Carpal Tunnel Syndrome Foundation. No such foundation existed;
it was a cover for essential contacts among members. But it looked like a real
appeal, with all sorts of presumably authentic statistics on in the incidence
of the condition, and how it wasnt covered by most insurance plans. There was
a URL for a video on YouTube.
It
was from a couple of months ago. Freelance reporting on a fire at a brownstone
in Brooklyn; the reporter said there was a girl still trapped inside and the
Bravest were gearing to go after her and live up to their name. But one of them
was suddenly looking up, past the building. The freelancer panned up to catch a
flying woman heading for the fourth story window of the apartment. She entered
through the smoke and flames and, moments later, emerged with the girl –
she looked to be Hispanic, five or six – cradled in her arms, and
descended slowly and gently to the street. The girls mother cried in relief,
took her child in her own arms, and kissed the superwoman. The crowd cheered.
The
superwoman looked dirty and bedraggled, and she was wearing civvies rather than
a proper costume. But there was no mistaking her. The freelancer didnt know
her name, but it was Caramel Fox. Had to
be. Walters felt a stab of fear in his heart. Nobody was supposed to escape
from World 666. Nobody. Was there
some conspiracy behind it – was a government agency involved? The U.N.
was officially in charge of cross-time and up-time relations, but there were
also NGOs that played by their own rules, and avoided publicity could Caramel
be working with them?
How
long had she been here? What had she told the people she worked with? Walters
silently cursed himself. We should have been keeping tabs, he thought. Millions of people here followed the
exploits of superheroines, and a few were even superheroine groupies. It made
him sick to think about that – which was why he and those of like mind
habitually avoided watching anything to do with them.
There
hadnt been any warning from the Groups base on World 666. Somebody there
must have fucked up, big time, and they werent about to admit it. But if World
666 had been compromised
VIII, by Matt Reyes
Brian paced around his apartment. It was large for a New York apartment.
The space was decorated by a man who lived by himself but tried really hard to
give it a homey feel.
But that was just a faade, part of his cover. He really felt horrible
conflicted even. He spent all night talking with Caramel, trying to get her to remember. But so far, there were only little things, like smorgasbord, that were common to many timelines even if they had originated on only a few.
Given how little he'd had to start with, the mission was going well; the only part that bothered him were the
feelings that were brewing inside him. He wanted nothing more than to go into
his bedroom where Caramel was sleeping. Brian wanted to go
into that bedroom and make love to her. Geez, he thought. I am in love with her.
His com-unit buzzed in his pants pocket, interrupting his thoughts. He
was waiting for the call. He had transmitted a status report to his superiors
in the Corp.
Tempest here. It looks like
Texas will be in the world series again. The cool toned female voice said.
The odds are long and they
need to beat the Brooklyn Dodgers first. Brian calmly gave the reply to verbal
security challenge. The cosmic joke was the Texas Rangers had never won a
pennant in any time line – until this past year, in a line that wasnt of
any importance. Even there, theyd lost in five. It proved logic had nothing to
do with the Multiverse.
It's good to talk to you
again, Brian, Tempest said. We miss you here on Terra Somnium.
Same here I... miss home,
Brian said quietly
Brian sat on his couch and took a sip of his coffee. Nothing like good
old fashioned Earth coffee. It was at least a perk of his current assignment.
Only on an old Earth could you get a decent cup of coffee.
Listen Brian: Proceed as
planned, do what you have to. But she must remember who she is. We can't win
until she does. The situation is not looking good on our end.
Tempest, do we have to do
it this way? She deserves better; she has been to hell and back. I don't want
to add to her pain, Brian said and took another sip.
Brian you know whats a stake here, we can't sacrifice everything for
one woman. Even her. We need her to save our own asses. She can't do that if
she does not remember. Tempest paused and sensed Brian's hesitation.
Brian do you love her?
Um, n... yes, Tempest I
think I do. She is wonderful, Tempest; more than we ever imagined.
Brian told her with resignation about his feelings. No use lying to
Tempest. She was his boss, anyway, and best friend. Just Friends.
He heard his bedroom door opening. He stayed on his com-unit it looked
like a cell phone.
That's a relief Momma I am glad
you and Dad are safe. Maybe I can get some sleep now. He lied for Caramels
ears.
Brian watch your six you
know that gun man was looking for you. Do your job first and stay focused on
the mission. Take care, Tempest out.
Tempest smiled a rare smile these days. Then it turned to a frown. It was
wrong what they had to do. But then again they hadnt tried Love.
Brian suppressed a gulp as Caramel stood in his bedroom doorway. Her
legs bare and her ample bosom filling one of his jersey style shirts. Gods,
there was nothing sexier than a woman in ones own jersey shirt!
Will do Momma, take care
and don't worry about me. I got New York's finest protection with me now.
Brian continuing his cover and indirectly complementing Caramel.
* *
*
Caramel looked at Brian: Here was good man worried about his parents.
She stayed the night to watch over Brian. He was ever the gentleman giving up
his bed. For a moment she considered floating over to him and kissing him
deeply. But she was still not sure if she was ready. She slept a couple of
hours as much her Super Metabolism would let her.
Can't sleep? It's still a
couple of hours till sunrise. Brian said while trying not to ogle her body
with his eyes. It was difficult indeed.
It's alright Brian I just
need a Power Nap. She laughed a little at her inadvertent jest.
Her smile made Brian's heart leap. Not only because he was in love with
her. But the fact she made a joke was a good sign of her recovery.
Power nap. That is a good one.
Well then lets get you some coffee and Breakfast. I do a mean version of a
Fry-Up or full English Breakfast. Brian asked her with a friendly smile on his
face.
That sounds...wonderful Brian. When the sun comes up I can check in with
the Police and see if they had any luck identifying the body yet.
But she was thinking about something else. And not even about how he
rated such a big apartment.
My, my. He is
intelligent, handsome, a gentleman and he cooks breakfast! Maybe her luck was changing, just maybe – even
more importantly – she could fall in love again.
IX, by Brantley
It was after breakfast.
Caramel looked at Brian, and Brian looked back. She could tell what was
on his mind. Yet he looked hesitant, as if he were afraid – as if he
feared what might happen to him if he tried to do what he so obviously longed
to do.
She had been afraid, too – there were still the memories of the
world shed come from. But shed gotten used to being a real superheroine here.
She knew men wanted her – and not for torture. Shed begun playing with
herself, imagining what it would be like. It felt good. She didnt want to wait
any longer.
Its all right, she told Brian. I can enfold you in my aura. Theres
nothing to be afraid of.
It took him a moment to register surprise, as if he might have heard
something about auras but hadnt quite believed it.
You mean?
Weve got business in the bedroom.
He was quick on the uptake this time, and she followed him in.
Take your clothes off! she said – but said it with a light tone
of promise, and began stripping herself.
When he stood before her naked, his manhood rampant, she urged him to lie
back on his bed.
Let me take care of that, she said. Let me take care of you.
Joining him on the bed, she impaled herself on him, and it felt good, oh so good. She savored the stretching sensation, then
began to grind herself against him, knowing it would drive him crazy.
He reached out to squeeze her breasts, their tips already rigid, and she
sighed with pleasure. She began moving up and down, and that drove him even
crazier, until he just couldnt stand it any more and came inside her –
she could actually feel him come, and that made her come. All the hurt she had
harbored from that other world vanished like a puff of smoke as she gave herself
up to pleasure.
When Brian wanted to change positions, Caramel appealed to what she knew
was one of the favorite fantasies of this world. Bullets cant hurt these,
she said, proffering her breasts. Your hands cant hurt them, your teeth cant
hurt them. She came again when he savaged them, her orgasm erupting from her
nipples and traveling between her legs.
She was aching to have him inside her again, and again she teased him.
Fuck me hard! she cried. Fucking cant hurt my body! Brian pounded her ruthlessly,
until she thought the very bed might break, and when she came again, right
after he came, it was so powerful that she almost fainted. But there was
something else as the Big One faded into afterglow.
I remember, she moaned. I remember.
X, by Brantley
It was her references to Gand and Conroy that prompted Brian to reveal his connections with Tempest and Terra Somnium's operation. The ramifications of the conspiracy against superheroines ranged further than Ezusi and Hladgerd could have imagined. That it should threaten the future of all timelines.... Brian's own role had come as a complete surprise to Hladgerd, and she might have felt used but she couldn't complain. He'd been doing the right thing, and his lovemaking had been heavenly quite apart from having restored her life and her very soul.
"We should call a summit meeting," he proposed.
It turned out that even though Arda Gand had been to the 31st Century, it hadn't been the same timeline as Brian's you could still get a decent cup of coffee there. She and Brian had a lot to share when they got together at his place with Ezusi, Hladgerd and Conroy and his staff.
"Then he started whimpering like a whipped dog," Steve told Hladgerd afterwards. "He knew it was all over for him."
And indeed it was, when the news broke. Nobody else in the media, from Nancy Grace to Glenn Beck, had a kind word to say for him, and he committed suicide before he could be brought to trial. But the Cross-Time Center and Terra Somnium, knowing that the news would spread across timelines and put the prime movers of World 666 on notice, had already put a joint operation in motion to attack the Evil Empire at its source.
Well in advance of alerting the authorities, Dr. Conroy's cybergeeks had analyzed all the evidence from Walters' apartment, traced all the links from timeline to timeline, from middlemen to the men and even a few women posing as witches at the top of the chain. The cut-outs engaged in trafficking the sadistic videos would be dealt with by the authorities in their own timelines or by Crosstime agents if the authorities were compromised. But for those directly involved in kidnapping and enslaving superheroines, there would be no mercy...
* * *
The secret masters of the mind-control operation on World 666 had been terminated.
Freed superheroines were attacking their former warders and tormentors with unrestrained ferocity
THE END