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Chapter 32
by
micdan282
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Flashback
The air in the apartment was thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and rain. Thatcher stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a half-empty glass of scotch sweating in his hand. Outside, thunder grumbled over the city. It was almost midnight.
Sandra was late.
Again.
He glanced at the old clock on the wall, heart pacing like it already knew what his mind refused to admit.
Then the door creaked open.
She stepped in, soaking wet and stone-faced, eyes heavy with something she wasn’t saying. Her leather jacket was spattered with rain…and blood.
Thatcher’s stomach dropped.
“You didn’t answer your phone,” he said quietly.
Sandra peeled the jacket off and tossed it onto the chair without meeting his eyes. “I was working.”
He walked forward slowly, setting his glass down on the table with a quiet clink. “Sandra… whose blood is that?”
She paused. The silence said more than any answer ever could.
Thatcher’s voice was harder this time. “Sandra.”
She finally looked up. “He was a trafficker. Had women locked up in a warehouse on the south end. I stopped him.”
He stared at her like he didn’t recognize her. “Stopped him?”
“I ended him, Luke,” she snapped, stepping forward, her soaked boots squeaking on the floor. “He would’ve slipped through the cracks like the rest. Just like the man who killed your sister almost did. You know the system doesn’t work.”
“That’s not your call,” he growled. “You said it was just once. Just Black Vice. That was vengeance. This…this is something else.”
“Don’t you dare lecture me,” she hissed, eyes flaring. “You didn’t see what he was doing to those women. If I’d waited for a warrant, they’d be dead or gone.”
“You’re not judge and jury, Sandra! You’re just a damn executioner!”
She crossed her arms tightly, jaw clenched. “You felt differently when I did it for your sister.”
Thatcher’s face twisted. “That was different. That was personal and I have the decency to be ashamed about it.”
“And this isn’t?” she asked, voice cracking. “How many times do we sit at dinner and talk about the scum walking free in this city? How many nights do you come home frustrated that no one cares, that nothing changes?”
“I swore an oath,” he said. “To protect people. Not punish them. There’s a line—”
“Well maybe I’m tired of lines. I’m skilled enough to do something about the crime in this city so why not?”
That silenced the room like a punch to the gut. He looked at her then, really looked. At the tired eyes. The blood under her fingernails. The weight in her shoulders she couldn’t put down anymore.
“Jesus, Sandra…”
She stepped toward him slowly. “I never meant to hurt you. But I can’t stop now. There’s too much rot, Luke.”
He shook his head. “I can’t be part of this.”
“I’m not asking you to be,” she said, her voice suddenly small. “I just… I have to do this. It would be selfish not to.”
With that Sandra left, she didn’t slam the door. She just pulled it closed behind her, quiet and final.
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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.
Updated on Dec 27, 2025
by micdan282
Created on Nov 30, 2016
by fyreant
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