Fairburne part 8: Past the director commentary, she comes face to face with bureaucracy.

The next scene is a brief montage. It shows Fairburne hunched down over a toilet in her living quarters, retching. Then a scene of her lifting massive steel weights in the training room only to faint and collapse to the floor. After that, a scene with her in the infirmary talking with a young woman with teal hair and color-shifting eyes wearing a white doctor's coat over a rainbow-colored schoolgirl dress. The rainbow-dressed girl smiles and says something, which causes Fairburne to put her hands on the side of her head and begin screaming in anguished frustration, making the colorful doctor jump in surprise and start awkwardly backing away towards the exit.

Continuing after, a scene shows Fairburne wearing a simple tee-shirt and jeans, with no sign of her costume, stepping up to the desk at a public clinic of some kind. The woman sitting behind the desk clicks through her computer screen a number of times and then suddenly frowns. The receptionist shakes her head grimly to Fairburne and hands the disguised heroine a small paper note. After Fairburne reads it, she runs out the front door looking absolutely distraught, pulling at her hair.

The next scene after that shows the rest of her hero team in their meeting area. Tears running down her cheeks, Fairburne is shown speaking to them. WreckBoi looks concerned. Blazestar looks furious and pounds a fist into his palm, but Fairburne just sadly shakes her head, burying her face in her hands. Teen Gravity and Thunderbird exchange a very guilty look.

The following scene is a split-screen with Fairburne speaking animatedly on the phone, eyes red and bleary, while on the other end a nervous woman in a police uniform is shown speaking back to it. The policewoman shrugs as she speaks, shaking her head as she explains something. Fairburne crushes the cell phone in her hand.

The following scene lists the date as 3/12/18. It is no longer a montage, and sound is included once again.

Fairburne (back in costume) is more calm and collected now, looking mildly annoyed, as she sits in a waiting room with her legs crossed. Some League civilian employees can be seen doing repair work on the walls in the hallway just outside. Her formerly flat, well-toned belly is showing a prominent bump. Sitting on the couch across from her is a buxom, tanned young woman with light blue hair in a pixie cut, wearing a blue cleavage-baring two-piece swimsuit and a polka dot motif. The short-haired heroine's skimpy beachwear does nothing to conceal the heavily pregnant belly she's supporting with her hands, clearly being in her final months. It seems like she's been trying to make cheerful small talk.

"Listen," Fairburne says wearily, "I appreciate the effort, Bubble Girl, but I really think these aren't the best circumstances for us to get to know each other better. I don't want my first impressions to be tainted by association, you know? I'm probably going to go asking for favors from our local psychics to see if I can just delete large sections of my recent memory."

"Oh, c'mon, it's not so bad." the blue haired heroine says. "At least your reputation is still intact. You could be me..." she smiles darkly and pulls something out of her accessory bag, showing it to Fairburne.

Fairburne inspects the DVD cover and cringes. On the cover is a picture of Bubble Girl wearing that same outfit, but with a flat, trim midriff rather than a round, massively swollen one. In the picture, the non-pregnant Bubble Girl is kneeling in a sexy pose and looking very nervous as she awkwardly flashes a peace sign. It is listed as 'Hardcore Heroine Auditions #6: Bubble Girl', and has a logo shaped like a stylized horse's head under it.

"...and have the recording of you getting this way floating around every black market sex shop in the city. Still think you're so unfortunate?" Bubble Girl says in a light, cheerful tone. Fairburne doesn't seem to know how to respond to that and just laughs nervously and breaks eye contact.

A voice can be heard coming from behind the counter; a heavy sigh, followed by a deep female voice muttering. "Toute peine mérite salaire... Another Friday afternoon that I could be spending advancing science, instead reserved for rubber-stamping mountains of paperwork regarding knocked-up teenage sluts." The way that Bubble Girl and Fairburne turn to glance up at the counter shows that the speaker, the Big 7 heroine La Petite Mort, isn't speaking as quietly under her breath as she thinks she is. "You first, in the blue."

Bubble Girl awkwardly stumbles up to the desk, leaning back as she moves to compensate for the weight of her swollen tummy. "Hi Mort. I was told to report here?"

"Mm. Yes, Fille Bubble. Since you don't have a secret identity, I commend your dedication continuing to stay on patrol for so long. and ignoring the gossip of those tabloid jackals..."

"What's to gossip about?" the blue-haired girl shrugs sadly. "It's a matter of public record, more or less. Darn that Stallion. And from what I hear I'm not the latest heroine stuck carrying one of his bastards, either. I don't mean to tell the leadership how to do things but shouldn't you, like, send some guy heroes after him or something?"

La Petite Mort chuckles, darkly, taking a cigarette out of a silver case. "That would be seen as conceding the point, non? He has just been getting lucky, and our c-rank heroines haven't been training hard enough. Someone will bring him down eventually, and we'll see to it he's locked away somewhere truly inescapable. Look on the bright side. When he is stopped for good you'll be entitled to a share of his ill-gotten revenues. It's a rare thing indeed when a hero gets a share of the loot once a villain is put away. Especially if she herself failed to defeat him."

Bubble Girl is still smiling but she rolls her eyes and sighs. "Pffft. Getting lucky, nice phrasing you went with there, Mort. As for the money, yay, I guess. Though how much will that really be if it's split 10 ways? And counting?"

Harumphing snidely, La Petite Mort twirls her pen in her hand. "Yes, yes. Free world-class medical care, free lodging, free food, free facilities, free legal representation, publicity, sponsorships... how can the League possibly be so stingy with you poor girls?" she says sardonically. "Anyway, our medical department tells us you are well beyond the point of being able to remain active, you silly stubborn girl, so here is your mandatory 10 months of maternity leave. That should be enough to get yourself back into, how do you say, fighting trim?"

"10 months?! That's it?" Bubble Girl pouts a little. "I thought if I went as long as I could before starting it, I'd get more... There's going to be a lot of demands on my time, you know?" she strokes her rounded stomach meaningfully. "Also, I'm preeeeetty sure this a non-smoking area. Considering."

The short-statured francophone size-shifter behind the counter looks down at the cigarette in her hand, then back to the water-controlling heroine's beach-ball sized stomach before regretfully putting the cig away. "Do you know how many other water-users petition for a spot in Acropolis City every year? 10 months is what you get. If, for some reason, you insist on keeping and raising a souvenir from a **** adult video role, well, that's why the League blows millions of corporate and taxpayer dollars on a secretive, ultra-secure daycare system. Most crime and villainy takes place between the hours of midnight and six A.M., de toute façon. Now, I need you to read this, and sign this... and this..." it goes on and on like that for a good 30 minutes before Bubble Girl is sent on her way and Fairburne is called up.

"Ah yes," Mort says. "Fair-bun, was it?"

The redhead scowls at the short-statured older woman. "Ha ha. So funny I forgot to laugh. Is it too much to ask to see if you've got any leads on the asshole cop who did this to me?"

Mort waves at her dismissively. "Without any supporting details about what you were doing there or why? I apologize if others strung you along. Allow me to be blunt. Such a redundant investigation is not worth our time. You didn't think to get the man's badge number or last name? Do you know how many in that pest-hole of a police department could be nicknamed 'Danny boy' and fit that vague description? If you don't have any charges to bring against him, it's a moot point, unless you want to wade through the legal morass of seeking an alimony payment from a position of costumed anonymity."

"That's not why I..." Fairburne raises her voice angrily, then stops. "Wait. Redundant? Why did you say redundant?"

Unable to smoke, Mort instead pulls a thimble sized bottle of wine and wineglass out of her glove, un-shrinks them to normal size, and pours a drink for herself. "That is above your clearance, but when you reach B-rank, you'll be have access to something that will clear the mystery up right away, I assure you. Anyway, to the matter at hand. Your belly is clearly starting to show, and since you do have a secret identity, this is a compromise risk. I called you here to give you your mandatory 10 months of maternity leave." She sips the drink. "Oh, how I missed having a good drink back when my husband and I were expecting... not to rub it in."

"You have a kid? YOU?" Fairburne raises an eyebrow. "Don't you work, like, 70 hours a week here? Brr. I hope the League has good child psychologists, too."

"It wasn't my best decision, in hindsight. Love has a way of clouding one's judgement." La Petite Mort says wistfully. "But I suppose you wouldn't know much about that, would you cherie? Ah, now with that one, you see, it WAS to rub it in."

"Fuck you too." Fairburne says with a frown.

"Oh? You need a release?" Petite Mort twirls her fingers. "I wouldn't have thought you would have much trouble finding attention, a pretty girl like you, even if you're a little fatter than you were when you joined. Pas de problème, I'll take care of your needs efficiently as soon as we're done with this paperwork. Anyway, don't tell Bubble Girl or anyone else, but since you had a team position, we can give you another 10 month extension or two if you feel the need to hover over the brat every minute for the first few years."

"Hell no!" Fairburne says, cheeks flushing. "There's no way I'm keeping it, I want to put this nightmare behind me as soon as I can. I would've had it taken care of long ago if it wasn't for that insane law the League tolerates for god only knows what reason."

Looking at the taller young woman condescendingly, Mort chuckles again. "I thought you were supposed to be intelligent. Think things to their logical conclusion, would you? Why exactly did you think a clinic like that would be able to 'take care of it' even if they were allowed to try, Miss 'Anti-tank missiles bounce off my tits'?"

Fairburne grumbles. "So you're an expert on it now, but you never bothered to tell me that the morning after pill wouldn't work for me before this situation? Whatever, focus on the important thing. I have a team to lead. Even if it is having... personnel problems."

"You can say that again. We've just dismissed Thunderbird from the League and sent her back to her home territory."

"What?!" Fairburne's eyes widen with shock. "Why?! Did this happen to her too?"

"Not that, no," Petite Mort says with a twinkle in her eye as she sips more wine. "It was a serious breach of our code, that's all I'm at liberty to say. Anyway, your male teammates are going independent again and the Teen Turbines are being put on hiatus. We'll re-form the team with new and old members a year from now, when this has all blown over." She stamps the sheaf of paper in front of her numerous times. "Your maternity leave is now officially started, and as per your stated wishes, someone from our in-house adoption agency will contact you when the time comes. But not a moment beforehand - it is a highly exclusive waiting list that costs hundreds of thousands of dollars to even get on, and the families on it get very upset when they think they are finally getting their chance only for a heroine to change her mind at the last minute. Now, did you still want me to help you get off, or was that just banter?"

A brown-skinned woman with pointed eras and an unkempt haircut in a cleavage-baring bodysuit barges into the room and waves. "Heeeeey! Fairburne! Glad I finally caught up with you. Are you free to discuss that baby shower I was talking about putting together for you? Or is this still a bad time?"

"VERY." Fairburne says to Beast-Beauty sharply.