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Chapter 12
by micdan282
What's next?
A Text
Rikki's phone buzzed at 11:08 p.m., screen lighting up against her nightstand. She was already in bed, one leg tangled in the sheet, the other kicking it off like she'd changed her mind. She reached for her phone glancing over at Finn, sound asleep beside her. As her eyes focussed on the screen she froze.
Devin.
Her stomach flipped. Was he in trouble?
Devin: Do you ever get the feeling that some people are just... pretending to be better?
She blinked at the message. No context. No “hey.” Just a sentence that felt like it had been sitting heavy in someone’s chest all day. This was not what she’d given him her number for. Her finger twitched over the reply box, then stopped. Don’t engage. This isn’t appropriate. He’s your parolee. She locked the screen and put the phone down. It buzzed again thirty seconds later.
Devin: Sorry. I shouldn’t have sent that. Ignore me.
She sat up, exhaling hard. She could leave it. He’d back off. Probably. Maybe. But something about the message nagged at her. It didn’t feel like attention seeking. It felt lonely. She picked the phone back up.
Rikki: Are you okay?
Devin: Yeah. Just thinking too loud, I guess.
Rikki: Try getting some sleep. Thoughts are always louder at night.
A few minutes passed. Long enough for her to think that was the end of it.
Devin: You sound like you’ve been there.
She didn’t answer that, just sat in silence. Her phone buzzed again.
Devin: Forget I said anything.
Rikki: It’s a little too late for that.
Devin: You ever feel like that? Like you’re just acting right until the curtain drops?
Rikki: That sounds like something from a movie.
Devin: Yeah, well. I watch a lot of movies now that I can’t do much else.
Rikki: I gave you my number for emergencies, Devin. Anything to do with the Corpses, that’s it.
Devin: I know.
Rikki glanced at Finn to make sure he was still asleep.
Devin: But if I told you I’ve been thinking about what kind of person I want to be, that wouldn’t be totally off limits, would it?
That made her sit up a little straighter.
Rikki: No, I guess not.
Devin: So what if I said I want to be the kind of guy who doesn’t screw everything up. Like I actually want to be a decent person.
Rikki: Then I’d say that’s a good start.
Devin: Then what?
Rikki: Then you keep it up. You stay honest. You put in the work.
Devin: Is that what you did?
She hesitated.
Rikki: Something like that.
Devin: You seem like someone who’s figured it all out.
She smiled to herself.
Rikki: I fake it well. Trust me I’m a mess.
Devin: Haha you hide it well.
Rikki: Thanks.
Devin: You know I always thought you were kind of intimidating.
Rikki: Ha ha what do you mean?
Devin: Like you’re such a serious adult you know.
Rikki: Did you ever think maybe I’m so serious because I’m your parole officer?
Devin: Yeah I guess that makes sense haha.
Devin: Thanks for not blowing me off. You’re the only person I know who actually listens.
She stared at that one. It was innocent enough on the surface. But it felt heavier than it looked.
Rikki: You’re welcome now get some sleep young man, it’s late.
Devin: Sweet dreams
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Perils of a Novice Superheroine
A generic superheroing setting drenched with sex and scandal
Acropolis City, the center of super-human and caped crusader activity in this particular world - with its own dizzying highs and lows, high-tech skylines and slums standing in stark, four-color contrast, it provided everything that a costumed megalomaniac or masked vigilante could ask for. In fact, as is usually the case where colorful masked characters are the norm, it has become something of an institution by this point. But although the mere existence of costumed heroes and villains no longer shocks people, these people - who, by their very nature, thrive on attention - keep finding new ways to stand out from the crowd and attract the eye. This last goal tends to get a lot of emphasis in the most simple, sexualized way possible. For reasons that the world's most brilliant scientists have yet to explain, latent super-abilities seem to manifest more often in women than men by a ratio of 3 to 1 or more. This is true even when the superpower isn't "natural"; paranormal artifacts fall into their hands, esoteric martial arts schools never seem to have a male heir, the technological prototypes they test always seem to be the ones that are most easily used or abused for good and evil. Unfortunately, the glory days of the past where citizens were happy to see any old masked do-gooder show up are over - in recent years, Acropolis City has established a ranking system of heroes where those who get high marks from the citizens and resolve incidents are rewarded with corporate sponsorships and (most coveted of all) seats at the prestigious League of Propriety. Those who intimidate the populace, cause excessive collateral damage, or simply don't excite anyone, garnering low rankings, get 'asked' to move to less prestigious cities. Few superheroes want to get stuck battling clans of villainous hillbillies and corrupt small-town sheriffs for the rest of their careers, so they're always eager to please the influential citizens of Acropolis City (judges, eminent scientists, first responders, and of course the all-important reporters). On the other side of the law, a similar dynamic predominates; only the most glamorous and charismatic costumed ne'er-do-wells can make it in this town. And so, the novice superheroines just learning the ways of battling for justice and order, without any team to back them up, always end up patrolling the skeeviest, most undesirable slums of the city and taking on the most thankless rescues. As if that weren't bad enough, most of them feel obliged to dress in ways that get more outlandish and revealing with every passing year while they fight the good fight and/or feed their craving for attention, depending on how you see the 'cape life'. As if that weren't troublesome enough, the superhuman mutations that make so many of these heroes' careers possible also result in greatly increased sexual sensitivity, particularly in females. The adventures and misadventures that these spandex-clad lady crusaders get into are often too hot to print for the kind of comics that their young admirers would read. Messy mistakes will be made, but you don't want to disappoint your readers, do you? So let the League know what kind of superheroine you are, your chosen name, powers, and appearance, and they'll send you out on your first patrols. Good luck.
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Updated on Jun 15, 2025
by micdan282
Created on Nov 30, 2016
by fyreant
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