(Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice or any other DC character that
should show up on this story. Glitter Girl, however, IS a creature of my
creation. This fic was written for the entertainment of all, not for
monetary gain. With that in mind, enjoy as best as you can.)
Chapter 1: Rising Star
In a city this big, it isn't very hard to find trouble, ESPECIALLY at night. All you have to do is follow the sirens.
I still remember the first time I ever went "rooftop hopping"; using the closely-spaced high-rises as an ulterior means of getting from one place to the next: The surge of adrenaline, the rush of wind, the feeling that you're going to fall off at any given second became a drug I couldn't let go of. Since then I've lost track of the times I've traversed these roofs, but I never lost that feeling.
The situation wasn't something I hadn't encountered before; gang of wanna-be hoodlums botching a bank heist (still can't believe anyone still tries those things anymore). Cops had them surrounded on all sides, but that didn't stop them from fighting back. At first I couldn't understand why they just didn't open fire on the guys; they were completely in the open, and while they were packing some Toastmasters, it wasn't anything a couple of well-aimed bullets wouldn't solve. Then I noticed something with color in the midst of the ski-masked crooks: Hostage. Blast it! No way the cops could fire without having to go through her. Of course, that didn't stop the robbers any. And with the added incentive of having the media swarming like pirana, you had yourselves the making of a Hollywood- perfect fiasco.
I yanked up on the sleeve of my glove and made last minute adjustments to my hair. After all, you only get one shot at a good entrance....
***********************
The cop car ignited in a ball of flame. Outgunned, the officers sought whatever shelter they could find. As long as they had a hostage, there wasn't much they could do. They had their orders not to fire (a bloody political decision; they were getting torn apart out here, and they're supposed to stand around like frikin' targets).
Meanwhile the media was circling like a pack of vultures. One or two of them were actually close enough to smell the breaths of the assailants, to hear the soft clicks of their triggers amidst the roar of their Toastmasters, and to hear the screams of the poor woman trapped in between it all. If only they could get her away, the cops could have a clean shot. If only.... Suddenly, as if an answer to a prayer, a white flash of light exploded between the two parties. Cops, crooks, and reporters alike flinched as its brilliance shone into every crack and crevice, lighting the night sky like day and blinding anyone and everyone in a fifty-foot radius. From the country it looked like the city was aflame, or the sun was rising over the horizon. It was a brilliant, soundless explosion of radiant glory.
The light quickly sifted away like sand in the wind. It took a few seconds for everybody to regain sight.
There, standing before the assailants with firm defiance and a coy smile, was a beautiful female, shimmering with fiery brilliance. She was a young thing, barely sixteen years of age, but every bit the woman. She stood tall, confident, not afraid: Every bit the heroine. Her costume, or lack thereof, revealed as much skin as legally allowed by law, and was just as dazzling as her entrance: An ivory-white one-piece with a skirt that BARELY touched her thighs. The trim of the skirt had gold lining, as well as the neck of the top, which came down in a V-shape just enough to tease, but not enough to show cleavage (even though there wasn't much there to begin with) and sparkled with silvery-sequin delight.
Her gloves rose to her elbows, her boots to her knees, gold with white trim. Her legs were bare from the knees up, her arms from the elbow to the meat of her neck. There was no sequin on either the boots nor the gloves. After all, too much destroys the effect.
Like most heroes who understood the sanctity of a secret identity, she wore a mask as flashy as her costume. It resembled a Mardi Gras mask, only without the gaudy feathers. It hugged her face tightly, large enough to cover up her facial features, yet did nothing to hide smoothness of her skin or disguise the deepness of the blue in her eyes. Her hair, long and golden, gently tickled the crook between her shoulder blades. And as she stood there, an unearthly aura seemed to surround her, as though she were an angel sent from Heaven, an awe-inspiring sight for all those there to witness it.
***************
The looks say it all; they have no CLUE who I am. Some of them are looking at me like I'm an answer to some wet dream (eww), while the others are doing there best not to explode with laughter. I let it slide off my back (well, some of it anyways).
One of them, obviously the leader, decided he'd had enough with me already, and brought his gun to the ready. This was the opening I needed. With the flick of my wrist I sent a dazzling display of colors dancing around them like pixies. I had gotten the idea from a Japanese cartoon; with a thousand miniature lights of every which color flashing and pulsing and dancing around them, they'd be too confused to focus on little old me. And it worked. The group was too dazed and confounded to realize what I was doing. I felt like coming up with some typical super heroic one-liner, like "Don't worry, it happens to all the guys I meet." But I digressed, opting to snatch the poor girl from their clutches (and get a few good punches in too) and make our way to safety.
By the time the lights dissipated (I figured they'd had enough) and the gang realized what had happened, it was too late. The first thing they saw when they regained their vision was the business ends of almost thirty barrels.
All in a day's work.
******************
The media vultures were all in a tizzy over the latest development. Before the cops could begin to read them their rights, microphones and flashbulbs and cameras all came rushing through the barricade like a tidal wave, surrounding this mysterious new person. Like fleas they latched themselves to her, bombarding her with question after question. For the most part, she didn't seem phased. Rather, she was enjoying the attention. A smile beamed like a lighthouse beacon as they inquired about everything from her name to her favorite boy band.
Calmly, slowly, she rose her hand, and the crowd came to a hush. She'd had this speech prepared for weeks now, and by God, it was time for her introduction.
"Metropolis, Keystone, even Gotham City all claim super heroes as their defenders," she started, fists on her hips, going for what she called the `super pose' (since she'd always seen Superman do it). "Now it is time for this fair city to claim one of her own. I may be young, but I am far from inexperienced. And I swear, with God as my witness, that this city shall know crime no longer. For I am on the job."
"But what should we call you?" a female reporter asked, almost on cue. "What's your name?"
Slowly, starting from her toes and rising, she began to glow with steady brilliance, until she was almost blinding to look at. She was smiling as wide a smile as ever.
"Call me....Glitter Girl!" she boomed proudly. And with that last syllable, she was engulfed in a blaze of glory, and disappeared from there midst.
************
The house wasn't much to look at, but it was better than what most couples brag about. There was a back yard; not big enough for trees, barely big enough for a dog, but just enough for a young girl to explore. White paint flaked off, revealing ancient wood underneath. The roof had recently been reshingled, so it shimmered like black coal when it was day; at night, especially nights like this where the clouds suffocated the stars and moon, it seemed to melt with the shadows, like there was no roof there at all. With two floors and a porch, it was the best you could ask for without going further inland to states like Ohio, where cookie-cutter, suburban housing were almost given away. But then, they couldn't be offered such a spectacular view of the city skyline.
The couple sat, glued to the images of their eight-inch screen. They held each other close, arm in arm, hand in hand, smiles so bright they engulfed the light from the television. They marveled with quiet awe as the young figure dashed and darted between her foes, chuckled slightly as the absurdity of her speech, and sighed with satisfaction as the praises and speculations from the media poured out like milk. They were so focused that they almost didn't hear the silent closing of an upstairs window.
.....almost.
"We taped the news broadcast for you!" the mother yelled from the couch. Hurried footsteps galloped down the staircase, and a young blonde, dressed in boxers and a `Sauce Gotham' t-shirt came sliding into the television room, ala Tom Cruise.
"How'd you know I was home?" she inquired.
"If there's one constant about you super heroes," she joked, "it's that you make a lot of racket."
"Gosh, I love you too mom," she smiled, kissing her mother on the cheek. She plopped down on the couch, cuddling into their loving arms, as they continued to watch the news broadcast that her parents had been so kind to tape for her.
*Call me...Glitter Girl!*
"And that was the scene not long ago," the news reporter stated. "Where the young super heroine known as Glitter Girl made her dramatic public appearance, aiding the police in the apprehension of The Tony Gang, who are wanted in connection to several bank heists in the New England region. As you can see in the footage here, with no regard to her own safety, Glitter Girl leapt into the fray and, using a prolific light display, rescued the hostage and allowed the police force to move in on the suspects."
"Gee, not TOO over dramatic, are we?' her father quipped.
"Shh!" she waved him off. "I'm trying to hear this."
"The police chief in charge was even quoted as saying, `If not for her intervention, the situation could have spiraled out of control.'"
"Ha! D'you hear that? If not for me, `the situation could've spiraled out of control'."
"Ooo, beautiful AND modest," the father responded sarcastically.
"I think we've raised the perfect super hero," the mother chimed in.
"Gee, if I'd known my arch-nemesis' were going to be my own parents, I would've worn my costume." She playfully stuck her tongue out at the pair, who in turn stuck their tongues out at her.
"Now, while this is her first television appearance, this is most certainly not her first public appearance. For almost a year Glitter Girl sightings have been popping up everywhere in our city, citing as much speculation to her existence as the fabled Batman himself."
"Oooo," she awed. " They included me in the same sentence as Batman."
"Might as well've included you in the same sentence as Santa Claus."
"Steven!" the wife scolded.
"What? Everyone knows Batman's not real!"
"Shhh!" she shushed them both again.
"Now that she's made her triumphant debut, the only question left is, `Do we finally have our own super hero?'"
*click*
"Well?" the mother inquired, gazing at her young daughter. The young girl smiled, propping her knees up. Rocking back and forth, she gazed up at the ceiling with faux innocence.
"I don't know. Homecoming's not too long from now, and I REALLY have to get on that English report..." She glanced over at her parents, who were giving her the `yeah, right' look.
"Psych!" Not able to contain her excitement any longer she cartwheeled off the couch, bounding around the floor and leaping from furniture to furniture in an youthful display of energy and agility. She danced about, defying gravity briefly before landing on one foot in the middle of their carpet, and, as an exclamation point to it all, kindly took a bow.
"Very nice," her mother said, turning the television power off and rising from the couch. "Now let's see you do that all the way upstairs to bed."
"Moooommm!"
"Don't `Moooommm' me. You may be a super hero, but you still have classes in the morning. Now scoot."
"*Sigh!* Aright." She kissed her mother on the cheek. "Goodnight Mom." She walked over to her father, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek as well. "Goodnight Dad."
"Goodnight Amanda," he said.
"Oh, and don't forget," the mother stopped her halfway up the stairs, "your father and I are going to be away for the week, so I want you to be on your best behavior."
"Okay, Mom."
"And no heroics, either!" the father added. She started to pout. "No, no, don't do that with me. You know the rules: No super-heroing while we're away."
"Alllllright," she moaned. "Goodnight." The couple listened as she trampled up the remaining stairs like a heard of elephants into the sanctity of her own room.
"*Sigh* Do you really think it's a good idea leaving her alone like this?" the mother asked, settling into his loving arms. She looked up at him, at his smile, into his eyes, eyes that could stop the world.
"She'll be fine," he said, stealing a kiss. "She's a super hero. And besides, she's going to be hanging with Emily and Jessica pretty much the whole time. She'll be too preoccupied with being a teenager to be a super hero."
She turned to face him, concern etched onto her face. "I'm still wondering if this is all a good idea, letting her risk her life like this. I know she has powers and all, but she's still normal, still human." She hung her head. "I just...I don't know..."
Gently he lifted her head with his slightest touch. Looking back into those sea-blue eyes of his, she could feel her anxiety melting like ice in the summer's heat. "I was just as unsure as you were about Amanda doing all of this, and I still am. But she's got talent, Jules. And passion...."
"She HAD to inherit your passion, didn't she," the mother sighed.
"Hey, it worked with you, right?" He tickled her sides, reveling in the yelps she made.
"Oh, you ARE incorrigible, aren't you?" she said, settling down. They exchanged a passionate kiss.
"Don't worry," he said in whispered tones. "Soon enough she'll be getting invites from all kinds of super hero groups like the Teen Titans or the Junior Justice League, then they can train her properly. Just wait and see."
"Alright," she said. She stood there for a second, eyes fixed on her feet. Slowly she brought her eyes into his, a tiger's glint emanating from her pupils. His eyebrows rose in curiosity.
"Now, Mr. Maxwell," she said, letting the weight of her body press against his. Passion poured from her lips like wine as she inched them ever so perilously to his. "Let's find out where our daughter gets her physical skills from."
"Rrrowwwlll!"
****************
She closed the door behind her with an energetic slam, blocking out the outside world and absorbing herself into this; her sanctuary, her solitude. Littered all along the walls were the posters and pin-ups of her favorite super heroes; a montage, nigh, a fresco of titans. Superboy, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and the Flash darted and dashed about in typical heroic pose, as Steel, Wonder Girl, Impulse (her personal favorite and secret crush), Young Justice and the JSA seemed to fly out, refusing to be confined by their two-dimensional prisons.
Blowing the Lad of Lightning a kiss, she threw herself on her bed, sheets flying up into the air. With a casual thought, she snuffed the light out in her room, letting the darkness invade each corner until it occupied all but the spaces the moon's rays touched.
As much as she was a day person, she loved nights like this, where the moon and stars hung like candles against the black canvas sky. A moons ray cast its blue light across her room, over her bed, onto her face. She smiled, gazing up at the ceiling tiles, letting the adrenaline drain out of her pores. She thought about the events of the day, the events of last week, and as far back as the events of last year. She thought about the party she was going to, about her friends at school, about the possibilities that lay before her. `Today was good,' she thought. `Today was VERY good!'
She ducked underneath the covers, where no light could reach. The darkness inside was like black ink poured all around her. She slowly waved her fingers across her face, although she couldn't even see her fingers if she was poking her own eyes out. She crossed her legs, sitting Indian-style on her soft cushion, and relaxed, cupping her hands like she was about to dip them in water. Her thoughts settle, mind and body becoming Jello-O. Calm. Warm. At one with herself and her surroundings.
And then she felt it, a slow-burning ember in the palm of her hand: A pearl of light hovered in her hands, shimmering like a golden diamond. Her face became awash in its yellow glow as it sent the blackness retreating to the farthest corners of her sheets. It felt warm against her skin, like a mother's kiss, soft as down.
Smiling, satisfied, she curled up into the fetal position with her little star, and drifted off to sleep.
********************* *Rrrrrriiiiiinnnnngggggg!!!!*
The final bell of the day resounded through the hallways, signaling the end of another day of academics. Students poured into the hallways like water from a broken dam, the silence shattered by the sounds of gossip and lockers and squealing sneakers. Amanda cut through the throngs of post- adolescents, weight of her school bag bearing down on her shoulder (goes to show how far all those debates on the amount of school work being bad for the back have gotten).
Marshmallow-fluff clouds clung to the blue canvas sky as she passed through the double-doors and into the open air, golden sun blazing above, pre-spring winds nipping them at ground level. A whirlpool of thought churned in her mind. By now her parents would be gone, halfway to their destination. The woman of the house was she, though hardly a damsel in distress. She had plans for the week, though none of them seemed to include `heroics'. Still, with her parents away....
"Look! Up in the sky!" a familiar voice squealed behind her.
"It's a bird!" another echoed.
"It's a plane!"
"It's *gmph!!!*"
"A pair of noisy teens. Don't you know I have an identity to protect?" She clamped her hand over the mouth of her brunet friend as she scolded.
"Oh chill," the other reassured her. "You could say you're Wonder Girl and no one would notice."
The pair were Jessica and Emily, the envy of every post-adolescent female, muse for every boy with any kind of taste in women, and Amanda's best friends since fourth grade. Jessica stood a foot above the pair, auburn hair with curls tight enough to strangle a fly below her shoulders. Her physique was Amazonian, her grace unparallel. She was the physical one of the three, captain of the woman's football team as well as volleyball. In contrast Emily, in one-inch heels, was still three inches shorter than Amanda. At first glance one would think she was a porcelain goddess brought to life. One would not be so far off. Her flesh was borderline pale, lips a light pink, hair cropped stylishly short and a chalkboard black. One look in her eyes, however, and you'd be drowned in the passion of her soul, the romance that crashed like waves beneath her delicate form; The polar opposite to Jessica, in features and in style. While Jessica was clearly Republican in her choice of wardrobes, Brittany obviously prescribed to the motto "If you've got it, flaunt it." This left Amanda trapped in the middle in every sense of the word.
The three shared everything with each other, from secret crushes to personal issues. So, naturally, when Amanda slipped on the tights and strapped on the mask, Jess and Em were the first she told.
And they couldn't have been more supportive.
"She's got a point," Jess said, Amanda's hand removed. She mocked paranoia, ribbing her blonde friend. "I mean, you never know when The Trickster might be lurking in the shadows."
"Ha ha," Amanda responded with false laughter. The trio rounded the corner, past St. Boniface church. It's tower kept the time, "Amazing Grace" playing through the loud speakers that resided where the bells were once kept. The sounds of platforms and tennis shoes scuffing against pavement, the aroma of young girls on the cusp of womanhood, mixed like a cocktail as the three discussed the events of yesterday, Amanda's heroic rescue, lunchroom gossip that would become cocooned by the weekend, only to emerge as a butterfly of `absolute truth' by Monday, and, most importantly, the party.
"Oh oh oh!" Emily bounced up and down, body language suggesting that she just remembered something of importance. "I just heard that Billy Thompson's going to be at the party."
"No way!" The others replied, stunned. Billy was the most reclusive, exclusive guy in school. He was also the hottest, most angst- ridden, and suave guy they'd ever seen too. For him to make ANY kind of public appearance was cause for gossip.
"Uh huh. And Michelle's sister's friend's cousin's half-brother from Sweden who used to play badminton before basketball told Steven's worst enemy that he might have a crush on *dramatic pause* Amanda."
"NO WAY!"
"Oh, WAY way!" The pair gave Amanda a `suggestive' (playfully) glance. Amanda simply shrugged it off. In high school, to believe everything you hear is to go deaf, and this one was a whopper.
"And would this be the same sister-friend-cousin-whatever that said they had exclusive proof that Bruce Wayne was Captain Marvel?" Emily looked like she was going to mount an argument, but fell off before she could speak. "I thought so."
"So, what are your plans for tonight?" Jess asked. "Wanna come over to my house? My sister promised she'd dye my hair."
"Later," Amanda responded. "There's just a few things I need to get a `jump' on...."
************************
Amanda bounded from rooftop to rooftop, dancing wildly to the mad tunes of the night. Her body moved with all the grace of a robin as she floated on a cloud of whimsy, the soles of her boots scuffing against the coarseness of the rooftops as she landed on the last house in the row.
The wind was warmer today, but it was still chilled enough to riddle her skin with goose bumps. It was also a quiet day. Not so much as a jaywalker. It wasn't like she was out for action. Some nights, like this night, it was therapeutic just to get out and let her hair down....so to speak.
She trembled as she stood perched at the building's edge. Looking over the bumps on her arms, she started contemplating some costume alterations, perhaps something with a fur coat. She gazed up at the heavens. The moon was flashing her a sideways smile, and she was more than willing to flash one back. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, not even a wisp. Somewhere in the city some star chaser was giggling with glee as he took advantage of the clarity to peruse the galaxies. As it stood, Amanda was content just the same.
Another blast of cold wind stabbed through to her bones. Images of warm running baths played vividly through her brain, her need for action coming to terms with the desire for a soft afghan and some steaming cocoa. She began to make her way home. If she was lucky, she could catch a ride on the roof of one of the city buses as it finished its routes.
*Clack!*
`So much for that thought,' she thought to herself. Peering over the edge, she was barely able to see a pair of legs slipping into the building just under her feet. And since this was supposed to be an ABANDONED building (there seemed to be no deficit of those), one could assume that there was some trouble amiss.
`NOW they decide to break the law.' Turning on the balls of her feet, she slunk to the skylight to see what trouble was brewing.....
***************
"Wohoo! Talk about a haul!"
"You tellin' me man! Look at all dis!"
"Hey! Did you see the look on the old one's face when I beat her old man?"
"Priceless. So, how much y'all think we got here?"
"Steve, you da numbers man. Start numberin'."
"Yeah yeah.....@&*^%!"
"What?"
"There's barely a hundred dollars here!"
"You kiddin"! We gotta have snatched five wallets plus!"
"Yeah, an' there was only about twenty bucks each inside."
"Dude, I told you we shoulda had them take off their shoes. Bet there was a'least a couple hundred more there."
"Man, how we gonna split a hundred bucks three ways?"
"I figure you guys can work it out in prison."
An ivory and gold meteorite came crashing down through the skyline. Glitter Girl was upon them in a flash, fists of fury flying every which way. In the back of her mind, a tiny little voice said that she should've alerted the police. But this was hardly a matter for the cops. Besides, they'd just laugh it off, and these guys'd be out before breakfast.
Working fast, she sent the bearded one crashing back into a pile of empty crates with a blinding bicycle kick to the chin, leather wallets and spare change flying about on impact. She quipped with stereotypical heroic banter, but was drowned out by the echoing of crashing wood. The second one tried to come from behind, arms outstretched to bind her. Without missing a beat she locked her hands around his wrist, tossing the lug a couple feet and into the shadows.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see one of them reaching for something, perhaps a gun, on the floor. Too far to reach him, she snapped a hand out. A pillar of light struck him like a truck, leaving him writhing on the floor, desperately clawing at his eyes.
"Bi*%^!" A fourth one caught her in the jaw with the butt of something blunt. Careless. She doubled back, the shock of it alone knocking her off balance.
*Crack!* She felt something in her jaw pop as her face met violently with his fist. Year old dust kicked up as she stumbled into a broken pile of boxes. She was down. Hard. Her heart raced at the pace of a race engine. Something warm trickled down her face; blood. Her blood. Frantically she tried to get to her feet. The other two were on top of her now, one for each arm. She fought with all her strength to toss them off, but at about two hundred pounds each they weren't going much of anywhere. A firm blow to the stomach took the remaining fight out of her.
"&*%^ busted my nose," the beared one said, nails digging into her arms.
The one from the shadows, back on his feet noted, "Hey, I recognize her. It's dat `Glitter Girl' chick from da news."
She tried to scream, but a faint squeal was all she could muster. She tried to release some kind of light blast, anything, but she couldn't focus. She felt like she was in quicksand up to her eyebrows. `Too deep. Can't concentrate....'
The one standing got a look in his eye. A look of...intent. His yellow teeth cracked from cheek to cheek. Slowly his hands moved down to his belt buckle. The other two caught on, chuckling at some silent joke. Only it wasn't funny. Not funny at all.
"Boys," he said, licking his lips. "I think it's time we had ourselves some fun...."
**************************************************************************** *
Chapter 1: Rising Star
In a city this big, it isn't very hard to find trouble, ESPECIALLY at night. All you have to do is follow the sirens.
I still remember the first time I ever went "rooftop hopping"; using the closely-spaced high-rises as an ulterior means of getting from one place to the next: The surge of adrenaline, the rush of wind, the feeling that you're going to fall off at any given second became a drug I couldn't let go of. Since then I've lost track of the times I've traversed these roofs, but I never lost that feeling.
The situation wasn't something I hadn't encountered before; gang of wanna-be hoodlums botching a bank heist (still can't believe anyone still tries those things anymore). Cops had them surrounded on all sides, but that didn't stop them from fighting back. At first I couldn't understand why they just didn't open fire on the guys; they were completely in the open, and while they were packing some Toastmasters, it wasn't anything a couple of well-aimed bullets wouldn't solve. Then I noticed something with color in the midst of the ski-masked crooks: Hostage. Blast it! No way the cops could fire without having to go through her. Of course, that didn't stop the robbers any. And with the added incentive of having the media swarming like pirana, you had yourselves the making of a Hollywood- perfect fiasco.
I yanked up on the sleeve of my glove and made last minute adjustments to my hair. After all, you only get one shot at a good entrance....
***********************
The cop car ignited in a ball of flame. Outgunned, the officers sought whatever shelter they could find. As long as they had a hostage, there wasn't much they could do. They had their orders not to fire (a bloody political decision; they were getting torn apart out here, and they're supposed to stand around like frikin' targets).
Meanwhile the media was circling like a pack of vultures. One or two of them were actually close enough to smell the breaths of the assailants, to hear the soft clicks of their triggers amidst the roar of their Toastmasters, and to hear the screams of the poor woman trapped in between it all. If only they could get her away, the cops could have a clean shot. If only.... Suddenly, as if an answer to a prayer, a white flash of light exploded between the two parties. Cops, crooks, and reporters alike flinched as its brilliance shone into every crack and crevice, lighting the night sky like day and blinding anyone and everyone in a fifty-foot radius. From the country it looked like the city was aflame, or the sun was rising over the horizon. It was a brilliant, soundless explosion of radiant glory.
The light quickly sifted away like sand in the wind. It took a few seconds for everybody to regain sight.
There, standing before the assailants with firm defiance and a coy smile, was a beautiful female, shimmering with fiery brilliance. She was a young thing, barely sixteen years of age, but every bit the woman. She stood tall, confident, not afraid: Every bit the heroine. Her costume, or lack thereof, revealed as much skin as legally allowed by law, and was just as dazzling as her entrance: An ivory-white one-piece with a skirt that BARELY touched her thighs. The trim of the skirt had gold lining, as well as the neck of the top, which came down in a V-shape just enough to tease, but not enough to show cleavage (even though there wasn't much there to begin with) and sparkled with silvery-sequin delight.
Her gloves rose to her elbows, her boots to her knees, gold with white trim. Her legs were bare from the knees up, her arms from the elbow to the meat of her neck. There was no sequin on either the boots nor the gloves. After all, too much destroys the effect.
Like most heroes who understood the sanctity of a secret identity, she wore a mask as flashy as her costume. It resembled a Mardi Gras mask, only without the gaudy feathers. It hugged her face tightly, large enough to cover up her facial features, yet did nothing to hide smoothness of her skin or disguise the deepness of the blue in her eyes. Her hair, long and golden, gently tickled the crook between her shoulder blades. And as she stood there, an unearthly aura seemed to surround her, as though she were an angel sent from Heaven, an awe-inspiring sight for all those there to witness it.
***************
The looks say it all; they have no CLUE who I am. Some of them are looking at me like I'm an answer to some wet dream (eww), while the others are doing there best not to explode with laughter. I let it slide off my back (well, some of it anyways).
One of them, obviously the leader, decided he'd had enough with me already, and brought his gun to the ready. This was the opening I needed. With the flick of my wrist I sent a dazzling display of colors dancing around them like pixies. I had gotten the idea from a Japanese cartoon; with a thousand miniature lights of every which color flashing and pulsing and dancing around them, they'd be too confused to focus on little old me. And it worked. The group was too dazed and confounded to realize what I was doing. I felt like coming up with some typical super heroic one-liner, like "Don't worry, it happens to all the guys I meet." But I digressed, opting to snatch the poor girl from their clutches (and get a few good punches in too) and make our way to safety.
By the time the lights dissipated (I figured they'd had enough) and the gang realized what had happened, it was too late. The first thing they saw when they regained their vision was the business ends of almost thirty barrels.
All in a day's work.
******************
The media vultures were all in a tizzy over the latest development. Before the cops could begin to read them their rights, microphones and flashbulbs and cameras all came rushing through the barricade like a tidal wave, surrounding this mysterious new person. Like fleas they latched themselves to her, bombarding her with question after question. For the most part, she didn't seem phased. Rather, she was enjoying the attention. A smile beamed like a lighthouse beacon as they inquired about everything from her name to her favorite boy band.
Calmly, slowly, she rose her hand, and the crowd came to a hush. She'd had this speech prepared for weeks now, and by God, it was time for her introduction.
"Metropolis, Keystone, even Gotham City all claim super heroes as their defenders," she started, fists on her hips, going for what she called the `super pose' (since she'd always seen Superman do it). "Now it is time for this fair city to claim one of her own. I may be young, but I am far from inexperienced. And I swear, with God as my witness, that this city shall know crime no longer. For I am on the job."
"But what should we call you?" a female reporter asked, almost on cue. "What's your name?"
Slowly, starting from her toes and rising, she began to glow with steady brilliance, until she was almost blinding to look at. She was smiling as wide a smile as ever.
"Call me....Glitter Girl!" she boomed proudly. And with that last syllable, she was engulfed in a blaze of glory, and disappeared from there midst.
************
The house wasn't much to look at, but it was better than what most couples brag about. There was a back yard; not big enough for trees, barely big enough for a dog, but just enough for a young girl to explore. White paint flaked off, revealing ancient wood underneath. The roof had recently been reshingled, so it shimmered like black coal when it was day; at night, especially nights like this where the clouds suffocated the stars and moon, it seemed to melt with the shadows, like there was no roof there at all. With two floors and a porch, it was the best you could ask for without going further inland to states like Ohio, where cookie-cutter, suburban housing were almost given away. But then, they couldn't be offered such a spectacular view of the city skyline.
The couple sat, glued to the images of their eight-inch screen. They held each other close, arm in arm, hand in hand, smiles so bright they engulfed the light from the television. They marveled with quiet awe as the young figure dashed and darted between her foes, chuckled slightly as the absurdity of her speech, and sighed with satisfaction as the praises and speculations from the media poured out like milk. They were so focused that they almost didn't hear the silent closing of an upstairs window.
.....almost.
"We taped the news broadcast for you!" the mother yelled from the couch. Hurried footsteps galloped down the staircase, and a young blonde, dressed in boxers and a `Sauce Gotham' t-shirt came sliding into the television room, ala Tom Cruise.
"How'd you know I was home?" she inquired.
"If there's one constant about you super heroes," she joked, "it's that you make a lot of racket."
"Gosh, I love you too mom," she smiled, kissing her mother on the cheek. She plopped down on the couch, cuddling into their loving arms, as they continued to watch the news broadcast that her parents had been so kind to tape for her.
*Call me...Glitter Girl!*
"And that was the scene not long ago," the news reporter stated. "Where the young super heroine known as Glitter Girl made her dramatic public appearance, aiding the police in the apprehension of The Tony Gang, who are wanted in connection to several bank heists in the New England region. As you can see in the footage here, with no regard to her own safety, Glitter Girl leapt into the fray and, using a prolific light display, rescued the hostage and allowed the police force to move in on the suspects."
"Gee, not TOO over dramatic, are we?' her father quipped.
"Shh!" she waved him off. "I'm trying to hear this."
"The police chief in charge was even quoted as saying, `If not for her intervention, the situation could have spiraled out of control.'"
"Ha! D'you hear that? If not for me, `the situation could've spiraled out of control'."
"Ooo, beautiful AND modest," the father responded sarcastically.
"I think we've raised the perfect super hero," the mother chimed in.
"Gee, if I'd known my arch-nemesis' were going to be my own parents, I would've worn my costume." She playfully stuck her tongue out at the pair, who in turn stuck their tongues out at her.
"Now, while this is her first television appearance, this is most certainly not her first public appearance. For almost a year Glitter Girl sightings have been popping up everywhere in our city, citing as much speculation to her existence as the fabled Batman himself."
"Oooo," she awed. " They included me in the same sentence as Batman."
"Might as well've included you in the same sentence as Santa Claus."
"Steven!" the wife scolded.
"What? Everyone knows Batman's not real!"
"Shhh!" she shushed them both again.
"Now that she's made her triumphant debut, the only question left is, `Do we finally have our own super hero?'"
*click*
"Well?" the mother inquired, gazing at her young daughter. The young girl smiled, propping her knees up. Rocking back and forth, she gazed up at the ceiling with faux innocence.
"I don't know. Homecoming's not too long from now, and I REALLY have to get on that English report..." She glanced over at her parents, who were giving her the `yeah, right' look.
"Psych!" Not able to contain her excitement any longer she cartwheeled off the couch, bounding around the floor and leaping from furniture to furniture in an youthful display of energy and agility. She danced about, defying gravity briefly before landing on one foot in the middle of their carpet, and, as an exclamation point to it all, kindly took a bow.
"Very nice," her mother said, turning the television power off and rising from the couch. "Now let's see you do that all the way upstairs to bed."
"Moooommm!"
"Don't `Moooommm' me. You may be a super hero, but you still have classes in the morning. Now scoot."
"*Sigh!* Aright." She kissed her mother on the cheek. "Goodnight Mom." She walked over to her father, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek as well. "Goodnight Dad."
"Goodnight Amanda," he said.
"Oh, and don't forget," the mother stopped her halfway up the stairs, "your father and I are going to be away for the week, so I want you to be on your best behavior."
"Okay, Mom."
"And no heroics, either!" the father added. She started to pout. "No, no, don't do that with me. You know the rules: No super-heroing while we're away."
"Alllllright," she moaned. "Goodnight." The couple listened as she trampled up the remaining stairs like a heard of elephants into the sanctity of her own room.
"*Sigh* Do you really think it's a good idea leaving her alone like this?" the mother asked, settling into his loving arms. She looked up at him, at his smile, into his eyes, eyes that could stop the world.
"She'll be fine," he said, stealing a kiss. "She's a super hero. And besides, she's going to be hanging with Emily and Jessica pretty much the whole time. She'll be too preoccupied with being a teenager to be a super hero."
She turned to face him, concern etched onto her face. "I'm still wondering if this is all a good idea, letting her risk her life like this. I know she has powers and all, but she's still normal, still human." She hung her head. "I just...I don't know..."
Gently he lifted her head with his slightest touch. Looking back into those sea-blue eyes of his, she could feel her anxiety melting like ice in the summer's heat. "I was just as unsure as you were about Amanda doing all of this, and I still am. But she's got talent, Jules. And passion...."
"She HAD to inherit your passion, didn't she," the mother sighed.
"Hey, it worked with you, right?" He tickled her sides, reveling in the yelps she made.
"Oh, you ARE incorrigible, aren't you?" she said, settling down. They exchanged a passionate kiss.
"Don't worry," he said in whispered tones. "Soon enough she'll be getting invites from all kinds of super hero groups like the Teen Titans or the Junior Justice League, then they can train her properly. Just wait and see."
"Alright," she said. She stood there for a second, eyes fixed on her feet. Slowly she brought her eyes into his, a tiger's glint emanating from her pupils. His eyebrows rose in curiosity.
"Now, Mr. Maxwell," she said, letting the weight of her body press against his. Passion poured from her lips like wine as she inched them ever so perilously to his. "Let's find out where our daughter gets her physical skills from."
"Rrrowwwlll!"
****************
She closed the door behind her with an energetic slam, blocking out the outside world and absorbing herself into this; her sanctuary, her solitude. Littered all along the walls were the posters and pin-ups of her favorite super heroes; a montage, nigh, a fresco of titans. Superboy, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and the Flash darted and dashed about in typical heroic pose, as Steel, Wonder Girl, Impulse (her personal favorite and secret crush), Young Justice and the JSA seemed to fly out, refusing to be confined by their two-dimensional prisons.
Blowing the Lad of Lightning a kiss, she threw herself on her bed, sheets flying up into the air. With a casual thought, she snuffed the light out in her room, letting the darkness invade each corner until it occupied all but the spaces the moon's rays touched.
As much as she was a day person, she loved nights like this, where the moon and stars hung like candles against the black canvas sky. A moons ray cast its blue light across her room, over her bed, onto her face. She smiled, gazing up at the ceiling tiles, letting the adrenaline drain out of her pores. She thought about the events of the day, the events of last week, and as far back as the events of last year. She thought about the party she was going to, about her friends at school, about the possibilities that lay before her. `Today was good,' she thought. `Today was VERY good!'
She ducked underneath the covers, where no light could reach. The darkness inside was like black ink poured all around her. She slowly waved her fingers across her face, although she couldn't even see her fingers if she was poking her own eyes out. She crossed her legs, sitting Indian-style on her soft cushion, and relaxed, cupping her hands like she was about to dip them in water. Her thoughts settle, mind and body becoming Jello-O. Calm. Warm. At one with herself and her surroundings.
And then she felt it, a slow-burning ember in the palm of her hand: A pearl of light hovered in her hands, shimmering like a golden diamond. Her face became awash in its yellow glow as it sent the blackness retreating to the farthest corners of her sheets. It felt warm against her skin, like a mother's kiss, soft as down.
Smiling, satisfied, she curled up into the fetal position with her little star, and drifted off to sleep.
********************* *Rrrrrriiiiiinnnnngggggg!!!!*
The final bell of the day resounded through the hallways, signaling the end of another day of academics. Students poured into the hallways like water from a broken dam, the silence shattered by the sounds of gossip and lockers and squealing sneakers. Amanda cut through the throngs of post- adolescents, weight of her school bag bearing down on her shoulder (goes to show how far all those debates on the amount of school work being bad for the back have gotten).
Marshmallow-fluff clouds clung to the blue canvas sky as she passed through the double-doors and into the open air, golden sun blazing above, pre-spring winds nipping them at ground level. A whirlpool of thought churned in her mind. By now her parents would be gone, halfway to their destination. The woman of the house was she, though hardly a damsel in distress. She had plans for the week, though none of them seemed to include `heroics'. Still, with her parents away....
"Look! Up in the sky!" a familiar voice squealed behind her.
"It's a bird!" another echoed.
"It's a plane!"
"It's *gmph!!!*"
"A pair of noisy teens. Don't you know I have an identity to protect?" She clamped her hand over the mouth of her brunet friend as she scolded.
"Oh chill," the other reassured her. "You could say you're Wonder Girl and no one would notice."
The pair were Jessica and Emily, the envy of every post-adolescent female, muse for every boy with any kind of taste in women, and Amanda's best friends since fourth grade. Jessica stood a foot above the pair, auburn hair with curls tight enough to strangle a fly below her shoulders. Her physique was Amazonian, her grace unparallel. She was the physical one of the three, captain of the woman's football team as well as volleyball. In contrast Emily, in one-inch heels, was still three inches shorter than Amanda. At first glance one would think she was a porcelain goddess brought to life. One would not be so far off. Her flesh was borderline pale, lips a light pink, hair cropped stylishly short and a chalkboard black. One look in her eyes, however, and you'd be drowned in the passion of her soul, the romance that crashed like waves beneath her delicate form; The polar opposite to Jessica, in features and in style. While Jessica was clearly Republican in her choice of wardrobes, Brittany obviously prescribed to the motto "If you've got it, flaunt it." This left Amanda trapped in the middle in every sense of the word.
The three shared everything with each other, from secret crushes to personal issues. So, naturally, when Amanda slipped on the tights and strapped on the mask, Jess and Em were the first she told.
And they couldn't have been more supportive.
"She's got a point," Jess said, Amanda's hand removed. She mocked paranoia, ribbing her blonde friend. "I mean, you never know when The Trickster might be lurking in the shadows."
"Ha ha," Amanda responded with false laughter. The trio rounded the corner, past St. Boniface church. It's tower kept the time, "Amazing Grace" playing through the loud speakers that resided where the bells were once kept. The sounds of platforms and tennis shoes scuffing against pavement, the aroma of young girls on the cusp of womanhood, mixed like a cocktail as the three discussed the events of yesterday, Amanda's heroic rescue, lunchroom gossip that would become cocooned by the weekend, only to emerge as a butterfly of `absolute truth' by Monday, and, most importantly, the party.
"Oh oh oh!" Emily bounced up and down, body language suggesting that she just remembered something of importance. "I just heard that Billy Thompson's going to be at the party."
"No way!" The others replied, stunned. Billy was the most reclusive, exclusive guy in school. He was also the hottest, most angst- ridden, and suave guy they'd ever seen too. For him to make ANY kind of public appearance was cause for gossip.
"Uh huh. And Michelle's sister's friend's cousin's half-brother from Sweden who used to play badminton before basketball told Steven's worst enemy that he might have a crush on *dramatic pause* Amanda."
"NO WAY!"
"Oh, WAY way!" The pair gave Amanda a `suggestive' (playfully) glance. Amanda simply shrugged it off. In high school, to believe everything you hear is to go deaf, and this one was a whopper.
"And would this be the same sister-friend-cousin-whatever that said they had exclusive proof that Bruce Wayne was Captain Marvel?" Emily looked like she was going to mount an argument, but fell off before she could speak. "I thought so."
"So, what are your plans for tonight?" Jess asked. "Wanna come over to my house? My sister promised she'd dye my hair."
"Later," Amanda responded. "There's just a few things I need to get a `jump' on...."
************************
Amanda bounded from rooftop to rooftop, dancing wildly to the mad tunes of the night. Her body moved with all the grace of a robin as she floated on a cloud of whimsy, the soles of her boots scuffing against the coarseness of the rooftops as she landed on the last house in the row.
The wind was warmer today, but it was still chilled enough to riddle her skin with goose bumps. It was also a quiet day. Not so much as a jaywalker. It wasn't like she was out for action. Some nights, like this night, it was therapeutic just to get out and let her hair down....so to speak.
She trembled as she stood perched at the building's edge. Looking over the bumps on her arms, she started contemplating some costume alterations, perhaps something with a fur coat. She gazed up at the heavens. The moon was flashing her a sideways smile, and she was more than willing to flash one back. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, not even a wisp. Somewhere in the city some star chaser was giggling with glee as he took advantage of the clarity to peruse the galaxies. As it stood, Amanda was content just the same.
Another blast of cold wind stabbed through to her bones. Images of warm running baths played vividly through her brain, her need for action coming to terms with the desire for a soft afghan and some steaming cocoa. She began to make her way home. If she was lucky, she could catch a ride on the roof of one of the city buses as it finished its routes.
*Clack!*
`So much for that thought,' she thought to herself. Peering over the edge, she was barely able to see a pair of legs slipping into the building just under her feet. And since this was supposed to be an ABANDONED building (there seemed to be no deficit of those), one could assume that there was some trouble amiss.
`NOW they decide to break the law.' Turning on the balls of her feet, she slunk to the skylight to see what trouble was brewing.....
***************
"Wohoo! Talk about a haul!"
"You tellin' me man! Look at all dis!"
"Hey! Did you see the look on the old one's face when I beat her old man?"
"Priceless. So, how much y'all think we got here?"
"Steve, you da numbers man. Start numberin'."
"Yeah yeah.....@&*^%!"
"What?"
"There's barely a hundred dollars here!"
"You kiddin"! We gotta have snatched five wallets plus!"
"Yeah, an' there was only about twenty bucks each inside."
"Dude, I told you we shoulda had them take off their shoes. Bet there was a'least a couple hundred more there."
"Man, how we gonna split a hundred bucks three ways?"
"I figure you guys can work it out in prison."
An ivory and gold meteorite came crashing down through the skyline. Glitter Girl was upon them in a flash, fists of fury flying every which way. In the back of her mind, a tiny little voice said that she should've alerted the police. But this was hardly a matter for the cops. Besides, they'd just laugh it off, and these guys'd be out before breakfast.
Working fast, she sent the bearded one crashing back into a pile of empty crates with a blinding bicycle kick to the chin, leather wallets and spare change flying about on impact. She quipped with stereotypical heroic banter, but was drowned out by the echoing of crashing wood. The second one tried to come from behind, arms outstretched to bind her. Without missing a beat she locked her hands around his wrist, tossing the lug a couple feet and into the shadows.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see one of them reaching for something, perhaps a gun, on the floor. Too far to reach him, she snapped a hand out. A pillar of light struck him like a truck, leaving him writhing on the floor, desperately clawing at his eyes.
"Bi*%^!" A fourth one caught her in the jaw with the butt of something blunt. Careless. She doubled back, the shock of it alone knocking her off balance.
*Crack!* She felt something in her jaw pop as her face met violently with his fist. Year old dust kicked up as she stumbled into a broken pile of boxes. She was down. Hard. Her heart raced at the pace of a race engine. Something warm trickled down her face; blood. Her blood. Frantically she tried to get to her feet. The other two were on top of her now, one for each arm. She fought with all her strength to toss them off, but at about two hundred pounds each they weren't going much of anywhere. A firm blow to the stomach took the remaining fight out of her.
"&*%^ busted my nose," the beared one said, nails digging into her arms.
The one from the shadows, back on his feet noted, "Hey, I recognize her. It's dat `Glitter Girl' chick from da news."
She tried to scream, but a faint squeal was all she could muster. She tried to release some kind of light blast, anything, but she couldn't focus. She felt like she was in quicksand up to her eyebrows. `Too deep. Can't concentrate....'
The one standing got a look in his eye. A look of...intent. His yellow teeth cracked from cheek to cheek. Slowly his hands moved down to his belt buckle. The other two caught on, chuckling at some silent joke. Only it wasn't funny. Not funny at all.
"Boys," he said, licking his lips. "I think it's time we had ourselves some fun...."
**************************************************************************** *