Issue #5: Family CONsiderations

(Whilst you, Rikki Drakeson a.k.a. Nightingale II a.k.a. Thunderbird, are getting waist deep in awkwardness, a much more casual scene is playing out with your absent teammate...)

The dimly-lit apartment room definitely has an odd motif. Every single piece of furniture, from the carpet to the draperies, is colored either solid black or solid white, with no other colors or shades of gray. Most of the room is fastidiously neat and tidy, with every little thing in carefully ordered place. The only exception is the tangled mass of bedsheets enfolding two people in bed. Underneath those bedsheets is another color contrast, as the pale man who owns this apartment, nude except for the expressionless metal mask over his face, has a nude brown-skinned woman* (*in the physical sense of the term) laying on top of him, resting her head on his muscular chest, rubbing the palm of her hand and her bare breasts over him gently. Her short chalk-white hair, and the off-white costume laying in a crumpled heap on the floor, testifies to her identity as the new superheroine, Snowflake.

"Ahhhh..." she sighs softly. "Did I fall asleep for a while there? Sorry, it's been a long day. I didn't mean to monopolize your room for so long."

"I've... done something wrong." The man says. "Acts of evil are being committed. All over the city. But I gave into pressure and just laid here for hours and hours. That means I am too am guilty, by virtue of inaction. I have to find a way to make restitution for this."

The tall young woman in bed with him giggles softly, her usually low voice showing its softer side. "Oh, I know. Me too. I didn't ask for your affirmative consent or anything before I pushed you into bed and started ordering you to do things to me. This is my first day on a new team, you know? People will be saying that I'm going to my position to work my way through every hot guy on the roster. On the other hand, the League gave me SUCH annoying teammates that I'm going to say this was a necessity. Medicinal fucking, followed by medicinal snuggling."

Snowflake inches up and gives him a kiss on the neck, and he puts his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her. "Mm. I'm still really iffy on the whole mask thing by the way. Really limited my options. As I said I don't care if you've got, like, acid scars or something. You still have a really nice body under that trenchcoat. Not complaining about that by the way, I like the trenchcoat look too. I'd be wearing one myself if that stupid boomer Mort wasn't insistent that I have to show off for cameras."

Mr. E, the hero in bed with Snowflake, whose renowned investigative skills had given him some measure of respect despite his lack of superpowers and his habit of tedious moralizing, shakes his head. "Don't miscategorize things, Snowflake. The term 'baby boomer' refers to people born between 1946 and 1964. Someone born in the 1970s like La Petite Mort would be, in common parlance, a 'generation X-er'."

"Yeah, whatever. That category can't cause trauma if it's misused, not like race, or gender identity, or sexuality. Anyway, I'm just saying, it would have been nice to be able to kiss you."

"I've sworn an oath not to be taken lightly. Words mean one and exactly one thing. Secret identity means secret." the man in the mask says.

Shifting her hips and sliding up to straddle his chest, enjoying the feel of his firm abs against her butt, Snowflake giggles again and affectionately strokes his hair. "Ooooh. I can't wait to have more debates about philosophy, it makes me tingle when you start getting all autistic on me. OH! I just went and used a protected category as a slur. You're such a bad influence on me." She plants a line of kisses down his neck and chest as she slowly slides off of him and stands up to her full 6 foot height, stretching and yawning. "Do you have some coffee here? And oh, I could *super* go for some vegan sausage patties if you have any of those. It'd be awesome if you could make some breakfast while I go take a shower. I'll gladly pay the going market rate for your groceries and labor. Oh! And the hot water." she snickers to herself, giving him a wink.

"I'll see what I can do." Mr. E says, gradually sitting up. "But I sincerely need to check on the database of property crimes. Thousands of innocent entrepreneurs were no doubt victimized while they slept. Rather than paying for trivialities I would rather you help me deal with some of the perpetrators I track down. Although I never believe in the initiation of , in times like this it's only prudent to have some super-human backup ready, especially since the League insists I load my magnum revolver with those ridiculous plastic bullets of theirs."

"Oh, are you asking me out on a date, E?" The sour expression that Snowflake gives her teammates is nowhere to be seen as she blushes and smiles sweetly. "I don't think I can manage that today, but this was pretty fun. What's your Saturday look like? Maybe Thunderbird can find a partner-of-gender-identity-appropriate-to-her-preference, or POGIATHP, and make it a double. I really do need to find a way to work with her on amicable terms, no matter how egotistical, privileged and sarcastic she is."

"Poe-gee-ah-thip." Mr. E says softly. "A little long, but that is an elegantly constructed acronym. No awkwardly abutting consonant sounds."

Snowflake grins widely, seeming to really appreciate the compliment. As the nude heroine* starts to walk to the bathroom, she stops by her discarded bodysuit and checks the wrist portion. "Hmm. That's odd. No messages or updates of any kind from Thunderbird or RB. I guess their investigation must be pretty uneventful so far." she pauses and folds her arms over her breasts. "Well, that's kind of a relief actually. Might be an awkward conversation to Griffineagle after I failed to rescue him, especially after we were... sorta..."

"Wait," Mr. E's voice has an undercurrent of hurt in it as he gets up. "You... you already have a lover? You mean..."

"No, no, noooooo," Snowflake spreads her hands and shakes her head awkwardly. "I barely even met him, we just got caught up in the headquarters attack together, is all! We're just casual acquaintances." She rubs her foot on the pristine white carpet as she remembers the way she casually acquainted her vagina with the 'hero' in question. "I mean, I did have sex with him, but that was just for, like, endorphins to help with the pain of his injured leg. I didn't invite him back to my room or anything."

"This was yesterday?!" Mr. E sounds a bit bewildered. "Snowflake, setting aside my potentially irreconcilable disagreements with your moral axioms, I need some clarity. Are we going to be in a relationship or aren't we? There's no middle ground! I'm not some kind of degenerate who will follow any impulse that pops in my mind, you realize?"

Snowflake's eyes widen and she awkwardly bends over and starts gathering up her costume. She sounds a little nervous and awkward when she speaks. "Hey, let's have this conversation when we have time to do it justice, okay? I really should get going and check on my team," she says as she starts hurriedly pulling her bodysuit on. "A little sweat stink won't hurt anybody and I'll need to take another shower tonight when I shave anyway. I'll give you a call as soon as I can, okay babe? Stay sweet for me!"

"But-" Mr. E starts to protest, but Snowflake is already slamming the door behind her. She wipes a hand over her forehead as she hurries down the stairs. "Damn it, why do I always go for the ones that start wanting commitment so quickly? That is such a microaggression, trying to emotionally me like that. Fucking entitled, white, regressive, heteronormative son of a..." a blush starts creeping into her cheeks again and she shakes her head. "Whatever, I'll work it out on the weekend. I am starving, though. I think I saw a Trader Joe's at the end of this block. Ah, I'm sure Thunderbird doesn't want me interfering in her investigation anyway, no need to send her or that prissy balloon woman any messages. I'll catch up with them in a few hours. They're probably just sitting around on stake-out. I'll bring them something from the store, show them I'm a team player..."