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Chapter 37
by fyreant
What's next?
Raven Woman gives you an enigmatic lead without telling you quite who it is
Whether you've mucked up your chance to get answers from Raven Woman through any action or inaction, or not, there is an obvious need to discuss something urgent. "Being so... confident in your control of the situation," you glance at the paused dirty video on her television, "
"So. Raven Woman. The, uh, Weather Watch and I," you put your hand on Red Ballon's shoulder again, "have, thanks to the diligent efforts of my powerful and brilliant 3rd in command, Red Balloon, uncovered a possible way to find where Hot-Cross Bunny and Doormouse took Dr. Rainbow and the other heroes they made off with."
"Third?! In a team of- I mean, thaaaaank you Thunderbird," your latex-clad teammate says in a **** tone of voice.
You move on. "Do you have any idea how I can get in contact with Green Streak? Supposedly he has something but according to Petite Mort, he's just running around the city beating up rioters at random, and hasn't even been into the HQ since before it got attacked."
"There is no way I'm bothering trying to chase him down. He's too fast. I'm more the slow and inexorable type. The human body isn't the most aerodynamic thing in this plane of existence. I can only fly at about 10 miles an hour.", quoth Raven Woman.
"Humans don't have wings." you point out helpfully.
The veteran heroine shakes her wings softly in response and frowns. "Whatever, shut up. Humans also can't throw their voice."
"Actually-" you begin, but she talks over you: "I said shut up. I'm not done. I know someone who can get Green Streak in the room within 60 seconds with one call to his communicator. She might be in need of help, herself. Maybe we can feed two birds with one slice of bread. So to speak." Come to think of it, that is a nicer way to say it than the one about killing two birds with a stone, which would no doubt be bad luck, given present company. She brushes some clutter and junk off of the table and puts her hand on a sheet of paper. Shadow flows like ink from her fingers, soaking into the paper and creating a detailed map of part of the city. She hands it to you, which you take a little hesitantly.
"There you go. Please burn or eat those directions to her apartment once you're done with them. And make sure not to do anything rash when you get there."
"Well then. Very good. Um..." you stumble over your words for a few seconds, trying to get some hint of her motivation. The mask makes her expression impossible to read, and her dull voice is no more informative. "I guess birds of a feather, uh..."
"...like to peck holes in over-inflated balloons?" Raven Woman puts her hands underneath her breasts and gives them a jiggle, smirking in Red Balloon's direction.
You cross your arms over your chest and suppress a smirk. "Come on now, don't be mean to my teammates. Otherwise, I'm going to start ending whatever I say to you with "ma'am". I get the feeling you would hate that. Wouldn't you, 'ma'am'?"
"Oh no." she says flatly. "Every attractive older woman's secret weakness. Ooh. Ouch. I'm dying inside here." she says monotonously. "Go on, get out of here."
What's next?
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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 21, 2025
by micdan282
Created on Nov 30, 2016
by fyreant
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