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Chapter 11
by fyreant
What's next?
Photobomber explains his mission and Goldie Glider reveals the peril she's put your reputation in!
"Whoah, what?" You gasp theatrically. "Greek Streak, what are you, like 50? You look good for your age."
"Are you KIDDING me, Nightingale?" the speedster says with an aggrieved tone in his voice, briefly dropping his hands to his hips and shrugging his shoulders at you. "That guy is obviously older than me! Also, he's a literal mad bomber, why are you trusting anything he says?"
Now that you finally hear him speak, the other man in the Hawaiian shirt has a dry, rather smug tone of voice. "I thought it was obvious enough that I wouldn't need to explain. I was from the future."
Red Balloon rolls her head sassily and blows air through her lips. "Um, after people have forgotten basic grammar, apparently? Don't you mean you ARE from the future?"
"No." Photobomber says. "Was. Unless I change something, I very soon won't exist." He shrugs casually. "That's it. I've been some great mystery to everyone in the League, huh? For reasons that I think should be obvious, explaining like this was a last resort. I don't have any master plan. I'm not trying to take over anything or decide the fate of the universe. I just want to live. Which means saving my dad from whatever happened to him."
You glance over at Goldie Glider and Mr. Gyro. They look skeptical of all this, but they're being surprisingly willing to hear this guy out. Or maybe they're just concerned about the fact that if they approach this mad bomber menacingly, things will start exploding again.
Photobomber continues. "Normally the timeline is self-healing. Changing little things like making a bus where two people met late doesn't make people's existence impossible. And from my perspective, all this already happened once. But something changed."
Gears turn in your mind as you take in all this exposition. Well, you're the team leader. Even if Red Balloon is insubordinate sometimes, she seems to be looking to you to say something now. So you do. "The pride celebration some weeks back... and then the HQ bombing... I guess that explains why you're haphazardly attacking villains that could involve Green Streak. But-"
"I'm not listening, this is bullshit! There's no way this is true!" Streak keeps interrupting.
You persist, however, talking as loud as you need to. "-why can't you just see what did him in with your own eyes and find out who was responsible?"
"Because," Photobomber explains, warily keeping his distance from you when you step closer, hand still raised threateningly. "If I go too far forward, it's over. Think of it like a roll of film in a camera. You only get so many of those little moments in time, and so many negatives. Eventually you get to the end of the roll."
Red Balloon blinks in confusion. "Roll of what? Photos come on rolls?"
"What can I say? I like the technology of the 1990s. That's why I traveled back there." the weirdo in the bomb mask says. "But you get the idea. If I actually go one nanosecond past the critical moment, I'm gone."
"Listen, Looney Tunes," Green Streak says irritably, thumping a fist against his chest. "even if any of that crap was true, why should I do anything for you? I think I get a say in that, you know? I'm a long way off from settling down, and well, sorry to talk dirty around the ladies present, but when you're as fast as I am, accidents aren't a problem."
Photobomber stares at him impassively from behind the mask and then slowly shakes his head. "Wow. You were a dick back now, weren't you?"
Wait a second. You think back to the epicenter of Photobomber's HQ blast. There had been multiple bombs... down in the basement with the Wonderland Warriors, *and* planted directly on Petite Mort's special micro-robot manufacturing machine. Was that a coincidence? And now, he felt the need to intervene to stop you from getting Green Streak and his felonious sister to embarrass themselves together. Goldie doesn't seem to want to kill him. Maybe he dies in a lover's quarrel or something, but it could be... that he just doesn't want G.S. attached to the 'wrong' girl.
"I know there's something you aren't telling me." you say, staring at him.
He turns towards you. "As I recall," he says, "your power can help you tell if someone is lying. Maybe that will help you believe me when I say, there's a lot I don't know. I'm just trying whatever I can," he says, taking a folded up photograph from his other pocket and holding it up, wherein a smiling woman in a bikini is standing there alone, "to get myself to reappear in this photograph from 2044. And what you were just trying to do seems like exactly the kind of thing..." he turns to Green Steak awkwardly, "that would have led to your ****, dad."
You start to protest, but then you swallow dryly. Much as you want to kung-fu backflip over there and give this guy a well-deserved beating for the trouble he's caused you, you have to admit... "I would **** the fuck out of time travel if it meant I could bring my dad back." you say quietly to yourself. Maybe this guy deserves your help.
He snorts. "Well, I guess I do owe you one for shutting down Thunderbird. But I'm not letting you stalk me, and, more importantly," he turns to Goldie Glider, "I'm not going to let you **** me anymore. Now that this joker is involved, nobody will believe there's any truth to it."
Goldie Glider looks quite confused and has a sour look on her face, but she smiles when he turns to her. "Oh, you don't understand, Banksy. I didn't bring you here to make threats. I brought you here to..." she blushes and sighs sensually, lifting up the fringe of her dress a tiny fraction. But then she shakes her head. "but, if you decided to be difficult, I was going to tell you I've already seen to it that Nightingale will be exposed for what she did."
Your eyes widen. Goldie glances at you. "I mean, that was a wise move, switching heroine identities and getting the previous Nightingale to step back in for damage control. I may hate you, but I do have to admit you 'heroes' run a tight ship sometimes. It doesn't matter, though. Once the girl who I tipped off catches up with Petite Mort and gets the evidence she needs to put two and two together with her, namely a certain violin and a certain very naughty piece of sheet music, it'll confirm her suspicions that Nightingale is responsible for a truly horrible incident. Something the paparazzi will be far too busy chasing to care about..." she looks back to Green Streak, "our forbidden love. And trust me, I'm quite sure she will find it... This new superheroine team of yours is a perfect excuse for someone to inquire with Petite Mort about joining."
"Ooooh. A truly horrible incident she's responsible for, you say?" Red Balloon giggles and feigns horror, putting a hand up to her mouth. "I suuuure hope that creepy bandaged guy claiming to be Thunderbird's brother doesn't overhear any of what Gloomy Sunday has to say, either! Right? Right?" she starts looking over her shoulder and winking and nodding rapidly.
You grit your teeth. Enemies on all sides. You think back. What is the way out of this? Now you have two absolutely vital goals. First, to get Green Streak to help rescue Dr. Rainbow. And second, to put a stop to whatever heroine Goldie Glider tipped off to... wait a second. You glare at Green Streak. He and Beast Beauty are the only ones who could've known about that violin and what Gloomy Sunday truly did. "Streaker!! Damn it! Why did you tell this bundle of crazy on skates about the violin and the... inhibition song?"
Green Streak opens his mouth but no words come out, and not because of your power for once. Goldie Glider runs her tongue over her ruby red lips. "Oh, quite simple. He was trying to make excuses for why he was still so hard after I swallowed his first load that I didn't even have to slow down for round two."
Uuuuugghhh. Gross. But whoever's to blame, it seems like you're at the end of your rope. If whoever Goldie put on your trail doesn't spread this ugly rumor (by which you mean, this ugly factual account) around and get you kicked out of the League, Red Balloon's silent partner will make sure Elliot gets wind of it, and then he'll own you.
Goldie Glider starts skating across the floor, coming menacingly closer to you, but you ignore her. You don't need to fight her or Mr. Gyro. Photobomber will cover your escape. You just need to get out of here so you can badger Green Streak into getting you to Dr. Rainbow. But is your identity as a superheroine doomed? There's no way you can get back to the HQ in time... and Petite Mort is ignoring your messages or getting blocked somehow. You'll never make it back to the HQ in time to intercept the one going to talk to Petite Mort.
There has to be a way out of this. Yes... you nod to yourself. You have one card left to play, much as you don't want to.
You press the button on your wrist to open a special communication channel to the central command hotline of the League of Propriety. "Birds of a feather flock together after all, I guess..." you mutter.
Will you call Raven Woman for help?
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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