THAT'S ABOUT THE SIZE OF IT
[hr]
Chapter 1: Why Can't We Be Friends?
[hr]
As her father's car pulled into the drop off line, Sheila Quartermain looked over her new school, and sighed.
"Och, dinna carry on, soo," Her father said, glancing at the rearview mirror. He winced as she cringed from the admonition. With a sigh, he added, "It's nae your fault, Love. We all have... growing pains-"
"Please, Dad. Don't sugarcoat it," Sheila interrupted. She wanted desperately to escape the car and the conversation, but dreading starting over again in a new school kept her seatbelt firmly buckled. "It's entirely my fault we had to move again for the third time this year. I... I'll just have to be more careful from now on is all." The look of resignation on her face as she said this tore at Finnegan's heart.
The car pulled even with the loading/unloading zone, and the large redheaded man turned to offer some words of encouragement, only to find that his only daughter was already halfway out the vehicle. Rolling down the passenger window, he remembered to not use any terms of endearment before calling out, "Have a good day, Sheila."
Sheila turned to throw back a weak smile before marching into the building, steeling herself for the coming day. Looking around, she found the proper hallway leading to her new class, not that it was difficult, given that she stood almost a head taller than all the other girls, as well as many of the boys. Combined with her athletic physique and well-endowed figure, she turned a lot of heads, which added considerably to her nervousness.
Arriving at her first classroom for the day, she took a seat in the middle of the row nearest the door, hoping to minimize the attention she was sure to garner just from being a new student as well as her looks.
The teacher, already seated at his desk, nodded as she walked in. "You the new student?" he asked.
Sheila nodded silently. Great. Just entered the classroom, and the questions have already started. Much to her relief, that seemed to be all he wanted to know, as he returned his attention back to some papers he was grading.
The warning bell rang just then, and more students started filing in, some taking note of the new girl, most absorbed in their own conversations or musings. Rather than the expected introduction to the rest of the class, the teacher, a man appearing to be in his fifties with considerable snow on his head, began the lesson when the final bell rang, forgoing even the rolecall. Guess he has some compassion for the awkward. Further musings on this were halted as he got into the meat of the lesson, the history of Millennium City, formerly known as Detroit.
Her first day of school went surprisingly normal, with only a few classmates trying to talk to her. Sheila was hesitant to make friends, knowing that at any time, she may be discovered and force her family to move once more. No. If it happens again, I won't force that on them again. If I have to, I'll run away or just ask them to homeschool me or something. I doubt Dad could afford to move us again, and poor Shiro... This has been hardest of all on him. Thoughts of her little brother brought a wry smile to her face. The seven year-old boy practically worshiped the ground she walked on, believing that she could do no wrong. Kiko, her mother was much harder to read, stoically bearing more than her share of the emotional burden Sheila's problems brought on the family. Still, she always had a kind word and a genuine smile for her firstborn, as she tried to ease the fifteen year-old's fears.
Passing by the gym, she stopped at the open doorway, watching the gymnastics team practice with longing in her eyes. Before... before, she was on her old school's gymnastics team, and more than anything, she missed the feeling of belonging that came with it. The physical exertion was nice as well, and it was tough to beat the feeling of accomplishment that she felt upon completing a particularly tough routine, but it was the camaraderie she felt with her friends on the team that pained her the most.
With a sigh, she turned to walk away, and was surprised by someone literally running into her at top speed. Though she was totally unfazed by the collision, Sheila had the presence of mind to act like she were. Gently falling back into the wall, she looked down to see a slight girl sitting on her rump, massaging her head. "Are you alright?" she asked, holding out a hand to help the much smaller girl up.
Still holding onto her head, she accepted the help. "Sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was-" She stopped when she saw she wasn't looking at her victim's face, but a rather impressive pair of breasts. Her eyes made the climb up to a face dressed in amusement rather than indignation.
Sheila's smile went a bit crooked as the clearly flustered girl lost her tongue. "Are you alright," she asked again, getting a dumb nod in return. "I'm new here. Sheila."
"Imogene," the smaller girl mumbled, her green eyes still locked onto Sheila's own green eyes. It took a great effort, but she managed to tear her eyes away to look down at her hand, still grasped by the taller girl's. "Um..."
Smile disappearing in an instant, Sheila quickly withdrew her hand as if burnt. "Er, s- sorry about that." Before another word could be uttered, she backed away a few steps before turning and quickly walking away, leaving the stunned blonde behind. She managed to hold her composure until she was out of the building, whereupon she began sprinting away into the unfamiliar city.
She didn't stop until she was out of breath in an alley between several apartment buildings. Dammit! I said to make no new friends so it won't hurt to leave them, and that doesn't even last a day! Ready to scream in frustration, Sheila opted for the hopefully slightly quieter option and punched the dumpster next to her. An ear-shattering BOOM sounded through the alley as the dumpster, now sporting a sizable dent in its steel side went careening into a brick wall, pulverizing some of the façade.
As the dumpster rebounded off the wall, Sheila looked around nervously. Now I've done it! Leaping ten feet into the air at the wall opposite her, she raven-haired girl bounced off of it towards another wall, going back and forth between them until she reached the roof, landing silently behind an AC unit. She took several deep breaths before looking over the edge, pleased to note that the only people in the alley and poking their heads out of the windows were not looking her way.
Slumping down safely behind the wall, the brunette breathed a sigh of relief. Now how do I get down without arousing suspicion?
(\ /)
( . .)
*(")(")
Wandering in a haze of funk, Sheila tried unsuccessfully to sort through her feelings, but they were just too jumbled up to properly identify them, let alone their sources. Explaining her absence when her mother arrived to pick her up from school was really the least of her problems, but luckily, the Japanese woman had accepted her daughter's excuse that she had been exploring the school. It helped ease the guilt that Sheila had actually been doing just that before running into that girl and her subsequent panic attack, but she still felt like a heel for telling her kind mother a half truth.
In an attempt to clear her mind, Sheila went for a walk after dinner. It took a little cajoling to keep her little brother from following after her, along with a promise to bring him back a candy bar, but it was a small price to pay for the privilege of added privacy for her thoughts.
That's not to say that she was entirely alone, of course. In a city of three point eight million, it's difficult to truly be alone. Moreover, Westside was not exactly the shining paragon of city life. Even in the nicer parts of the district like the one in which she now wandered, one would be hard pressed to call the streets truly "safe". The occasional thug could be seen loitering or walking slouched over with his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. The buildings were grimy despite many of them being less than two decades old, and the streets were littered with trash. If one looked closely, they could still see the faint scorch marks from when Dr. Destroyer leveled much of Detroit back in ninety-two, killing well over sixty thousand people. Citizens of the district took this as a sign of how low on the list of priorities their neighborhood fell as compared to say, the downtown business district or the swanky uptown residential/commercial areas.
Sheila was surprised to find herself in front of the local grocery store where she had been heading so as to get Shiro's candy bar before she forgot. She stuck her hand in a jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of change, making sure she had enough before going in. Satisfied, the tall girl walked in and headed over to the candy isle and picked out his favorite. Even with all the miserable things happening in her life lately, thinking of her little brother still brought a smile to her face. It wasn't hard, given how much he seemed to idolize her, and often referred to her as his hero. In the end, doing little nice things like this for him proved to be one of the few bright points of her day.
Candy paid for, she left the store and continued her walk towards the docks. Her parents had warned her that area was especially dangerous, and not just because of the heavy equipment, or the sometimes careless stevedores. Her father was lamenting just that morning at the breakfast table, that the police had found another dead body at the docks so thoroughly mutilated that facial or dental recognition would not be an option. This was said before Shiro joined them at the table, so Sheila knew it was obliquely directed towards her. That was just Finnegan's style; he preferred object lessons to outright forbidding and threats to encourage good behavior.
Usually, it worked, but today, Sheila was too distracted by her own thoughts to remember the warning. Sitting on the wall that separated the sidewalk from the docks below, the teen stared out over the water, not really seeing the ships float past, nor the workers hard at labor among the warehouses. Forklifts moved shipping containers back and forth, while trucks came and went, but still she paid them no mind.
It was a scream of terror abruptly cut short that finally did catch her attention, jerking her attention to a dark alley behind one warehouse where she saw several punks dragging a woman further into the shadows and around a corner, with a hand now over her mouth. Looking around, she could see that the sidewalk was relatively deserted, with no one else in earshot or even looking her way. Hesitating for only a moment, Sheila pushed off, falling the twenty five feet to the docks below, landing lightly on her feet. She pulled her scarf from her jacket pocket where she had stuffed it (she hadn't felt temperature extremes for almost a year now, but still kept it for appearances sake), and wrapped it around her head, effectively concealing her face.
Sheila crept forward, silently cursing her stupid choice to wear a skirt and leggings instead of pants like a sensible girl who was prone to getting into these sorts of situations. She hugged the dirty wall, trying not to kick over anything to alert her prey, but when she heard the girl scream again, she threw caution to the wind and ran around the corner, and straight into the arms of a waiting thug. "Looks like you were right, Birdie! I owe you a coke," he said as his huge arms wrapped around her. He whirled around, presenting his prize, allowing Sheila to see the rest of the gang standing over... wait, that's no girl. A thin, lanky boy stood and pulled a wig off his shaved head, smiling all the while.
"That'll teach you to doubt me, Slab," the lanky boy replied. He walked forward, flicking out a switchblade, that he pressed against her belly which had become exposed during her capture. "So, you trying to be a hero, Sweetness? Don't worry. By the time we're done with you, your own parents won't recognize you. Your identity will be safe."
Several of the thugs laughed maniacally at the joke. Having heard enough, Sheila brought her heel down on slab's foot as hard as she could, feeling bones snap like twigs despite the cushioning effect of her sneaker's thick, rubber sole. Birdie wasted no time trying to drive the knife home, but only succeeded in snapping the blade off at the hilt. Sheila didn't wait for the others to act to her grappler's cry of pain, nor their leader's shouted order to gut her. Using Slab as a pivot point, she kicked off from the ground (further demolishing the remains of the foot beneath her), flipping over the huge man and lightly kicking Birdie under the chin.
The lead punk was sent flying into a pile of wooden pallets and didn't appear to be moving, but Sheila now had to contend with six more tough-looking punks, all armed with various makeshift weapons, save one who wielded a revolver. It wasn't difficult to prioritize the threat order, so the impromptu hero moved quickly, grabbing the gun, hand and all, in a crushing grip and aimed it towards the sky, though the punk still had the time and presence of mind to fire off a shot that went wild into the air.
The other five rushed in, hoping to put her down quickly, but were shocked when she shrugged off their blows as if they were of no more consequence than a bee sting. Pipes, bats (with the requisite bent nails hammered in), chains, none of it seemed to really faze her. She let go of the gun, which was now sporting a bent barrel, and held up an arm, blocking a chain and letting it wrap around her, then grabbed hold of it and yanked on it hard enough to send the punk stumbling past her and into the wall face first.
Wood proved to be a poor choice for a weapon, as the bat (with nails) broke at the handle when the thug wielding it brought it down on Sheila's head as hard as he could. Sheila was momentarily stunned from the pain as one of the nails became embedded in her skin, staining her scarf with blood. It wasn't enough to keep her down for long however, as she retaliated instinctively, shoving him into his partner hard enough to send them both into a wall, knocking the breath from them.
The last two seemed to know when they were outmatched, and turned to run after giving each other a look. Not one to let criminals go unpunished, Sheila picked up the broken bat handle and threw it at one thug, already thirty feet away, who tripped into the other, sending them both tumbling into a pile just shy of the alley's exit.
Examining her handiwork, the girl made sure they were all unconscious before unwinding the scarf and painfully plucking the nail still stuck to her scalp with a hiss.
"Cease your misdeeds, evildoers, or face the magical might of the Witch Doctor!"
Sheila looked up from her examination of the blood-covered nail to see a girl who barely came up to her breasts, wearing a brown WWII uniform jacket over a matching pleated skirt and sandy colored T-shirt, topped off with a brown Hobby Hat posing dramatically. Her long, blonde hair blew in the chill breeze, also ruffling the short skirt which barely went halfway down her thighs. What surprised Sheila the most was that she recognized this girl. How could she not, having only just literally run into her earlier this afternoon? "Imogene?"
Surprised at being named, Imogene looked up at Sheila and realized what was wrong. "Eep!" she squeaked and whirled around, pulling the hat down over her whole head before letting it up again as she completed a full turnabout, facing Sheila once more, but with a pair of pink tinted glasses that obscured her eyes with unnatural ease. "Who is this 'Cindy' person of whom you speak? I am the Witch Doctor, mistress of runes, hexes, and witchcraft!"
The taller girl crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hips. "Oh, come on. I think I'd recognize the girl I almost ran roughshod over not three hours earlier. I have to admit though, those glasses work surprisingly well. How'd you make them appear like that?"
Imogene looked up at her from under the edge of her hat's brim. "You're not buying it, huh?" At Sheila's shake of her head, the blonde stomped her foot. "Oooh, snapdragons! I can't believe I forgot my glasses." She looked around the statuesque girl and drew in a gasp of surprise. "Oh! What happened? Did some other hero beat me to it again?"
"In a manner of speaking," Sheila replied with a smirk.
Imogene hesitantly pointed at her and said, "Y- you did all this?"
Sheila rubbed her head again, pleased that no more blood came away when she examined her fingers again, even if the spot was still sore. "Yeah, I can be a bit of a menace sometimes and forget my own strength. I was just about to call for the police to bring them an ambulance when you came around the corner."
"Y- yeah, maybe we should do that now and leave," Imogene said, eying Slab's devastated foot. As they walked away, Sheila made an anonymous report to the police, while Imogene guided her out of the dangerous area.
(\ /)
( . .)
*(")(")
Perched on an apartment building overlooking the docks, Sheila and Imogene watched as the police and paramedics dealt with the hoodlums from a safe distance. Sheila turned to her companion who was trying her best to appear unfazed by the blood and violence of the scene earlier, and perhaps unafraid of the imposing girl standing next to her. "So, Im- sorry, Witch Doctor. What were you doing in the area?"
Imogene looked at her like she had just grown another head that was attempting to speak a dead language at her. "Patrolling, of course! It's what heroes do, for peanut's sake. We find crime and stop it."
Sheila nodded and grunted her acknowledgment. Looking across the water, she noted the approaching night. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her bloody scarf and dropped the king-size chocolate bar that had gotten tangled up in it. She started to reach for it, but Imogene was faster, and returned it to her. "Thanks. My little brother would never let hear the end of it if I lost the candy I bought him." She looked down at the police just now putting the last of the thugs into a paddy wagon, and winced at the loud siren as it drove away. "You know, that sounds like a good idea."
A startled Imogene looked up at her in confusion. "Huh? What does?"
"Patrolling," Sheila replied. "Maybe... maybe I could... join you?"
It took Imogene a moment to parse just what she said, since Sheila had mumbled the last bit, though it only took her a second to decide. "Stars and garters, we'd make a formidable team! The majestic Witch Doctor, and... sorry, but I didn't catch your nom de guerre."
Sheila blushed as she wrapped the scarf around her neck. "Er, I'll have to get back to you on that. I just sorta decided this minute to... you know, make use of my talents."
Imogene playfully punched her in the arm, careful to hide her now throbbing hand behind her back as she tried to work the feeling back into it. "That's alright. It took me weeks to come up with mine, and I'm still not sure if I want to keep it. After all, a witch doctor has some... bad connotations, but there's only so many words dealing with magic that don't sound stupid when you try to use them as names. I mean, could you just imagine trying to be taken seriously with a name like 'The Ritual Master' or 'Epic Spellz'? I'm rambling again, aren't I? I'm sorry, I'll shut up now."
Smiling down at the smaller girl, Sheila replied, "It's fine. I think for now, you can just call me by my initials, SQ."
"You know, a lot of heroes use their initials as a starting point for the hero names, and then mix it with synonyms for their powers. What are your powers, other than being the toughest girl I've ever laid eyes on?"
Sheila smirked at her. "I think I'll leave that a mystery until we meet for patrol. Give you something to really come back for, you know?"
Imogene put her fist on her hips and pouted. "Oh, that is so not fair! You already know some of mine!"
Sheila's smirk became an outright grin as she turned to face her fully. "And you already know some of mine. Besides, I can't help it if you're a bit of a flibbertigibbet."
The blonde's cheeks puffed out in annoyance. "Ooo, you'll pay for that, you ruffian! Just for that, I'm going to think up some rude names to call you in my head, tonight!"
Sheila wrote something down on the receipt from the store earlier and handed it to the still pouting girl. "Just so long as you call me with a time and place to meet for your- sorry, our next patrol. Right now, I'm expected at home. See you later, Witch Doctor!"
With that, Imogene watched her hop over the edge of the building to the alley eight stories below and land with barely a sound, before casually walking off. Looking down at the paper, Imogene was surprised to see a hastily scrawled phone number, along with the name of her new friend and crime fighting partner. A grin spread across her face and she jumped up, pumping her fists. "Yes! One step closer to a supergroup!"
(\ /)
( . .)
*(")(")
Sheila was hand washing the blood from her scarf in the bathroom sink when a small, black-haired boy ran in, attaching himself to her side like a limpet. "Hey there, Squirt. Done with your project?"
Smiling up at her, Shiro replied, "For tonight. If this works out, I may have a new polymer stronger than titanium, but with the flexibility a hundred times that of surgical rubber. I'll know more when I get home tomorrow from school. That was for the chocolate bar, by the way," he added, explaining the sudden show of affection.
"I figured as much," Sheila said with a smile. "I suppose it was too much to hope that the hug was just because."
Shiro pinched her butt as hard as he could, though she barely felt it. "Fishing for affection? How uncouth."
Sheila dropped the sodden scarf and reached for the boy, who had the good sense to run back to his room. "I'll show you uncouth!" Catching up to him just at his doorway, she scooped him up and playfully threw him on the bed, and set to the task of mercilessly tickling him until he could no longer breathe.
"Akirameru! Akirameru!" Shiro cried out between gasps.
Sheila ceased her attack and sat back on her heels, still straddling her little brother. "That's right, you better give in." Looking around at his messy room, she got off of him and sat down on the edge of his bed. "I can tell Mom hasn't been in here lately, because you can still sit down. Are you waiting for her to whip out the punishment chart before doing something about all this?"
The mere mention of the punishment chart got Shiro off the bed and picking up his dirty laundry. "No, I just been caught up in this new experiment. You know how it is, She-She." He nodded his thanks as Sheila held open his laundry hamper, allowing him to just throw the clothes in instead of going over himself.
"How much of this polymer are you planning to make?" Sheila asked as she helped him straighten up his room.
Shiro stopped and looked at his sister curiously. "Why, got an idea for something?"
The tall girl gave a half-hearted shrug that Shiro recognized as her wanting something possibly big. He'd seen it enough times when she asked for something from their parents. "Sorta." She looked over at the open door and quietly closed it. "It's a secret. The kind you can't tell anyone about."
"Not even Mom and Dad?" he asked, suddenly nervous about having to keep something from them. He didn't like doing it, but for Sheila, he would.
Sheila scratched her chin, a sure sign of nervousness. "Well, I plan to talk to them about it this weekend, but I wanted to know if you would be able to help by having a prototype by then, if not the working model."
Now she had his interest in addition to his attention. "What is it?" he whispered.
Sheila leaned in close and whispered, "I need... I need a supersuit."
The stars in Shiro's eyes could have outshone a hundred watt bulb.
(\ /)
( . .)
*(")(")
A/N: Well, that's the first chapter done. This took an inordinate amount of time, mostly due to work tiring me out. I know I shouldn't complain since I don't have it nearly as bad as it could be, but tired is tired, man. Last thing you want to do when you're tired is use your brain meats. Anywho, this story is gonna be rated T for now. I'll try to keep it from straying too far into mature territory, but stories tend to take on a life of their own, and go strange places.
If you're familiar with the Champions universe, you'll probably see some familiar faces, but this is going to mainly be about my characters. I wanted to try writing about some characters I could build from the ground up, but use a pre-existing setting for convenience's sake. So far, so good, but keep your fingers crossed.