SURVIVAL OF THE MISFITS

By Stormkeeper

Disclaimer:

All characters © Hasbro Inc. and Sunbow Entertainment. I'm not making any money off of this and this is done purely for fan entertainment.

Author's notes:

This fic is the sequel to my earlier piece, "Farewell to Life the Way We Knew It". You might want to read "Farewell" before you open up this one, since a lot here won't make sense unless you're familiar with the first book.

"Survival of the Misfits" is rated PG-13 due to some profanity and adult subject matter. A few later chapters might go up to an R rating. Enjoy the fic, and please give feedback!

Survival of the Misfits

Sunlight poured into Jetta's room. She groaned and turned over onto her stomach, shutting her eyes. The light from outside shone on the bouquet of flowers on display inside the vase, brilliantly illuminating pink stargazer lilies and handsome chrysanthemums. Various limbs of Jetta's felt stale and she knew that she had been in bed for too long, even by rock star standards. No matter. She deserved every bit of this rest and intended to enjoy it.

She drifted off once more into a very pleasant sleep. Last night had been a triumph for the Misfits. They had played to a roaring crowd of thousands. Their music had been hot fire. The spellbound audience adored them. The ovation before their final encore had been deafening; it had been the loudest that any Misfit could recall. It had been too long since they had played to such a large group, and Jetta had nearly forgotten how awe-inspiring the experience could be.

And the part in the dressing room after the show had been wonderful too. Jetta grimaced just a bit since they had crossed the line and gotten downright sappy with each other for a minute or two. But the sentiments were real and maybe it wasn't so bad that they had been expressed out loud. Having someone to care about and having that caring out in the open were not totally reprehensible ideas, she mused, and she did have to admit to herself that her bandmates were her family. Even Roxy.

Now only half-asleep, Jetta wished that various figures from her past could have been there to watch the concert. Her lazy parents who had scoffed at her every ambition – that is, on those rare occasions when they made the time to listen to her. The bullies on the school playgrounds who had mocked her, making fun of her thrift-store clothing. The twits in her first band who hadn't wanted to leave London. The boundaries of that small country could not contain Jetta.

Well, none of those things mattered too much anymore, she felt. She disposed of her past, not giving it any more thought than the scraps from yesterday's breakfast plate. It was behind her and she never was one to dwell too much on the past. It was the future that she was concerned with. It simultaneously excited and worried her. As she finally pulled herself out of bed and towards the bathroom, she hoped that the benefit concert last night had not been the Misfits' last stand. It might be,' she said to herself. If we don't take some action.'

Jetta was going to make sure that her band survived.

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Pizzazz heard the knock on her door, wondering who on earth would have the chutzpah to disrupt her. No one was to disturb her before she came down for breakfast! Or lunch, in today's case.

"Who the hell is it?" she yelled.

Jetta smiled to herself, glad that the mushy part from the previous evening didn't mean that Pizzazz wasn't the same crab as usual. "It's me. When you're up, can we talk?"

"What the hell is so urgent that it can't wait? And what damn time is it now?" The digital clock was facing away from Pizzazz and she had no desire to sit up and turn it in her direction.

"It's twelve-thirty."

"Only? That ain't so late," she grumbled to herself. "I'll go get you when I'm good and ready," she called to Jetta.

"Sounds ace!" Jetta said. "The sooner the better, luv," she added.

An hour later, Jetta found herself in Pizzazz's room, sharing a lunch that she had brought up to the singer on a tray. Pizzazz was reminiscing about the concert as she gobbled down a greasy grilled cheese sandwich and a crunchy salad.

"We were so good. We were incredible," she murmured. "I looked so stunning. My voice was as great as ever." She took another bite of her food and washed it down with a diet soda. Wrapped up in fond memories of yesterday evening, Pizzazz did not notice that Jetta's hair was enhanced today with one of the lilies from the bouquet she had given the saxophonist before the concert.

Jetta encouraged her. "You're so right. We were at our best! You looked wonderful too."

"Damn right I did. Which is good, all those photographers there."

"Yes, we haven't had so much press in years."

"Uh-huh," Pizzazz said, a wistful smile on her face. "I can't wait to see the headlines!"

"Pizzazz," Jetta began, her tone having changed in an instant to one that conveyed the message 'now-I'm-getting-serious-and-you'd-better-listen-to-me!' "Pizzazz, you do remember that we barely avoided getting a really bad headline? A headline saying something like, 'Misfits Career Finished, Lesbian Band Member Arrested!'"

Pizzazz stopped chewing. She gulped and asked, "Why do you have to spoil my good mood?"

Jetta gave her a sour look. "Because sometimes, luv, you need a reality check. We had a blinder of a show last night but we barely avoided a media disaster! Can you imagine what would've happened had we not been rescued by Jem and the Holograms? Our careers would've all gone up the left! We got out of that one by the skin of our teeth but next time we might not be so lucky."

Pizzazz wadded up a dirty napkin and tossed it across the room. "Well, what the hell do we do, Jetta? I ain't kicking Stormer's mushy ass out of this band. What do we do?" she repeated. Her frustration was evident.

Jetta knew that her bandmates had a tendency to see things differently than the rest of the world and turn a blind eye to things they didn't want to deal with. She had to get Pizzazz to want to deal with it. Once their leader bought in, the rest of the group would have to follow suit.

"Pizzazz, I don't have all the answers. I'm as flummoxed as you are about what to do now, and I would never suggest we kick Stormer out. But I can tell you this. We cannot ignore this any longer and just continue to hope that nothing bad happens! We have to do something."

Jetta noticed that Pizzazz was looking at her intently. She could tell that the singer was listening well, and she continued on. "I think that the first thing we need to do is take a look at what happened last night." She paused and then asked, "Do you truly think it was just a coincidence that the Morality Police just happened to pay us a visit before the rock event of the year? Or….did the Stingers set us up?"

"The…the Stingers?" Pizzazz stuttered. "Setting us up? Riot setting me up?"

Jetta wished that Riot and his band had never left Germany. They had caused nothing but chaos for the Misfits. The worst thing was how carefully one had to tread with Pizzazz whenever the subject of Riot was brought up.

"I have been thinking a lot about this. When we first met with them to discuss the idea of a benefit concert, I swear I saw Rapture smirking. She was trying to hide it but I could see that look on her face. And yesterday, after the officers took our tests and said that the Misfits had all passed, I saw a very distinct look on the Stingers' faces. They looked disappointed. Not relieved or happy for us but decidedly disappointed. A bit surprised too, I might add."

"Are you sure about that?" Pizzazz was closing up. "I don't remember them looking disappointed. You got an over-active imagination sometimes, Jetta. You and Roxy were downright paranoid about this concert with the Stingers. You sure you're not just dreaming this all up?"

"Pizzazz, you know perfectly well that I am good at reading people," Jetta said firmly. She had barely touched her salad.

"Okay, fine. But that's not enough evidence that the Stingers set us up. Besides, how would they even have known….about Stormer?"

Jetta sighed. "That I don't know. All I can think of is that Riot has a lot of contacts and there are a lot of people who do whatever he asks. Maybe he has a friend at the Morality Office?" She knew this part was sketchy and wished she had something more concrete to offer Pizzazz.

"But c'mon Jetta, what are the odds of that?" She began, mockingly, "Like he's got a best buddy who's got connections and…." Pizzazz suddenly broke off.

"What is it?" Jetta asked, concerned.

Pizzazz was quiet for a moment or two as the wheels of her brain turned. "Well, I was thinking back to right after we got home from the tour, when I visited that guy my dad knew, the one who had some contacts at the Morality Office. His name was Terry Winters. And he looked up the records of our tests in Chicago, and he said that Stormer's test was noted as being inconclusive."

"Righteo," Jetta said, encouragingly.

"But that's not all. That day I went to see Terry…." Pizzazz groped to recall all the details. It had been a couple months ago now. "I ran into Riot in the building."

"You did?" Jetta gasped. Pizzazz had not mentioned this before. "Pizzazz," she reached over and touched her friend's arm as she spoke with intensity, "you need to remember everything that happened when you two met. Did you talk? What did you say? What did he say?"

Even though it had been a while ago, her interactions with Riot certainly made an impact on her. "He….he asked me why I was back in town," Pizzazz remembered. "That's right! I remember being happy that he remembered our tour dates, and he wondered why our tour ended so soon."

Jetta's face turned pale. "What did you tell him?"

"I don't remember! I think I tried to change the subject. But I remember he asked me who I was there to meet with. And I gave him the guy's name."

Jetta nodded. "The same lad who told us that Stormer's test in Chicago was noted as being inconclusive. Pizzazz, add up the pieces! Riot knew our tour ended early. He might have even rung some the clubs to find out why. If he did, then he knew that we lied since we told people that you had a bad cold. You obviously did not have a cold when he saw you that day. Maybe he went to visit that Terry Winters on his own. For enough money, I'm sure he learned the same thing we did….that something was off with Stormer's test. Riot might even have contacted the office in Chicago to find out more about this inconclusive test. You add that in with an unexpected call for 'unity' from the Stingers, Rapture's smirking at the meeting, and the disappointed looks of that group when we're pronounced okey dokey and what do you have?"

Pizzazz stood up and, letting out a trademark shriek, hurled a nearby vase against the wall. The vase shattered, the fresh flowers tumbling to the floor and spilling water.

Riot once again making a fool of her! Once again manipulating her. Stormer once again causing a very uncertain future for the band! Forces beyond, far beyond, Pizzazz's control conspiring against her. She let loose a string of cuss words. What made matters worse is that Jem and the Holograms knew Stormer's secret as well. Earlier the Misfits had suspected that this was the case, but the events of last evening confirmed that.

"I hate this!" Pizzazz concluded. "I have no fing control over anything anymore!"

"Pizzazz, take a deep breath," Jetta commanded, hoping she didn't sound like a yoga teacher. "And that's not true. We do have some control, but we Misfits have to act instead of just hoping things will turn out our way!" Her voice softened. "You always inspired me to do that. To make my own breaks instead of waiting around."

"Oh quit trying to butter my bread, Jetta! Besides, after the concert yesterday was about all the mushiness I can take."

"I'm not trying to butter your bread," Jetta responded, resolutely. "I mean what I say."

"Yeah, well you always made your own breaks too. That's why I liked your style as soon as I met you," Pizzazz said, in a complimentary tone she used sparingly. "So come on! Let's round up the troops," Pizzazz ordered, sounding much more like herself.

Jetta smiled, both at Pizzazz's praise and the outcome of their talk. Her mission was accomplished. With Pizzazz determined to act, the others would have to go along even lazy, stubborn Roxy.

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I remember once thinking that the Stingers had been the best and the worst thing that ever happened to us. I had that type of mixed feeling about last night as well – it was one of the best evenings for the Misfits but also one that could have been the worst.

But first, back to the Stingers. I say, of course, that they were the worst thing that happened to us because of how they manipulated Pizzazz and took our record company out from under our noses. However, I say they were also the best thing for us because when we reunited with Pizzazz, we came back closer and stronger than ever, both musically and as friends. We did so partly out of necessity, the fact that we had to unite in order to compete with the Stingers. A bittersweet experience, like yesterday's concert.

We had been so glorious yesterday that it was almost easy to forget that the group came within a hair of being publicly humiliated. I don't know if I would have been arrested or not but the publicity that would have resulted had I failed the blood test would have finished off our career. At least for the foreseeable future.

Last night (or technically, during the wee hours of this morning), when I finally reached my bedroom I was so stirred up that I could hardly sleep. Instead I took about half the flowers Pizzazz sent and began to press them out. My mood vacillated between joy and despair. The ecstasy was caused by so many things – the marvelous concert, the exuberant audience, the acceptance that Kimber and Craig had shown me, and the Misfits' toast and hug at the end of the show. But hanging over this happiness like an albatross was fear of uniformed men pricking my finger. Thoughts of a nightmarish stay in Chicago also clouded over the triumphant concert yesterday. It's like I finally had the emotional security I craved from those I loved but my own safety and security could not be guaranteed from society at large.

So I was more relieved than anything when Pizzazz called a meeting the following afternoon. I knew what we were going to discuss, and I hated dealing with this kind of thing. But it could not be ignored any longer.

Pizzazz closed the door to her room, and we pulled up chairs to sit in a semi-circle. I looked around and saw flowers strewn on the floor near a shattered vase. It was the only object I could identify that looked as if it had been broken or thrown. That was a good sign; sometimes her entire room was trashed. She does that less often now though. With the servants' reduced hours, it was often a while before the room could be cleaned. And I heard that her dad had recently chewed her out, giving her another reminder about finances and how expensive it was to replace things.

Roxy yawned and took another sip of her coffee. She hadn't showered yet; she was wearing only her oversized shirt, her hair was skewed, and no make up adorned her face. She also had a lot to drink last night the champagne had just been her starting point. She rubbed her temples and looked displeased. I wondered how bad her hangover was.

"Oh come on, Roxy," Pizzazz said. "It's nearly 3 in the afternoon! Quit acting like I woke you up at 6:00 a.m."

"Did I fing say anything? I didn't say anything!" she griped. Roxy can be quite pleasant when she's not feeling well. "I'm awake, I'm here," she added. She then broke out into a grin. "And did we have an awesome concert last night or what?"

I had to return Roxy's smile. I might sound insane for saying this, but I've always found something so childlike and innocent about her, despite the fact that she appeared tough and fearsome to most others. Her background was about as rough as it gets but I sometimes feel that she's a big teddy bear. Okay, that did sound insane and I'm probably the only person on the planet who sees her this way.

On my way to Pizzazz's room, I'd passed Roxy's. She left the door open as usual and I saw the bouquet of flowers that Pizzazz had given her. It had been left on the crowded dresser. I made a mental note to remind Roxy to find a vase and some water for the flowers.

Pizzazz and Jetta then shared their earlier conversation with us. They presented the evidence they'd compiled suggesting that we had fallen into a Stingers' trap. I was pretty shocked to hear that Pizzazz had run into Riot the day she met with Terry Winters. I wish she'd mentioned it earlier.

"I knew it!" Roxy exclaimed. "I told you that I smelled a rat. And I was right!"

Jetta pointed out, "I said the same thing. But it hardly matters now. We were lucky we got out of that sticky widget yesterday."

"And we can't keep sitting around and hoping for the best!" Pizzazz said. "We Misfits are going to make our own breaks with this one."

I listened and silently debated myself. This was all my fault. Should I offer to leave the band again? No, I had already done so and they had made it clear that no one wanted me to go. Even though I was now a liability to the group; my heart crumpled a bit at the thought but it was true. Should I apologize again? No, I already did that too and it had not gone over well. Besides, I didn't think they wanted me to do any of that. Everything they were saying and doing was indicating that we were going to handle this as a team. Despite everything, I still had to keep reassuring myself of that fact.

"The first thing I think we should do is contact Techrat," Pizzazz stated.

"Techrat?" I asked. Now there was a name from the past. I don't think I had seen or heard from the man since we called our truce with Jem and the Holograms. We really had no need for him since we weren't out to get the other band anymore.

"Of course!" Jetta exclaimed. "Bloody brilliant, Pizzazz."

"Uh-huh," Pizzazz nodded. "If there's anyone we can use to break into the computers of that stupid Morality Office, find out all we can about the blood test, find out how to beat it – it's him."

"Yeah, but we sure we can trust him?" Roxy asked. "Do we even know what rock he's crawled under?"

Everyone confirmed that Techrat had been out of sight since prior to the truce. "But as for trusting him," Pizzazz began, "I don't think that would be a problem."

"He never snitched on us before," I said. "He sure had enough evidence of stuff we were doing to get at Jem, but he never turned us in."

"Yeah, 'cuz Eric paid him well," Roxy said. "Gave him the money he needed so he could keep making his gadgets and crap. And no one would've believed him against us with all of Pizzazz's dad's money and lawyers on our side." She paused and said, "Times are different now."

I nodded. Roxy was right.

Pizzazz shrugged. "We still got money. If he needs hush money again, then he gets some. If we need lawyers again, we can still get them."

We decided to begin looking for Techrat by paying a visit to his old warehouse. It wasn't too far. We agreed that we would leave in an hour, giving Roxy some time to get ready.

As we filed out of Pizzazz's room, the singer stopped me. "Oh, Stormer," she began, in a commanding tone of voice. "One thing I want to tell you."

I turned to look at her. We were now alone in her room. She had the "Empress" look on her face, which is a term I used to myself when Pizzazz was in her commanding cross-me-and-you-die mode.

She spoke, "Jetta mentioned to me that you visited a lesbian bar the other day. You can't do that stuff anymore. It's too risky. There might be undercover Morality Officers at those places and you can't risk getting caught. That would ruin us."

I couldn't claim surprise because I knew Jetta would mention it to Pizzazz. I also couldn't really disagree with Pizzazz. What I had done was terribly risky; it's just that I was so desperate to spend some time with this group of people to which I belonged. But I didn't see any way I could make Pizzazz understand that, and my fear of discovery won out.

"You're right," I said. "I'll stay away from the bars."

"Maybe we can think of another way to get you some action," she said. "Though I have no idea how."

I smiled and tried to make a joke. "Maybe Techrat knows a nice girl he can hook me up with."

Pizzazz actually laughed, which was good.

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The Misfits opted not to drive their van to Techrat's old lair. Instead, they took one of Pizzazz's more non-descript cars. Pizzazz hoped that she could remember the way but she was not about to ask one of the others if she was still going in the right direction.

"It looks abandoned," Jetta observed when they came upon the warehouse where Techrat lived and worked.

"It always looked abandoned before," Roxy said.

Jetta threw her a sour look. But Roxy was right. Even in its heyday, Techrat's warehouse had been surrounded by dying trees, a boarded-up garage, and copious litter. Tall buildings loomed in the distance. The Misfits got out of the car and approached the foreboding, bulbous warehouse with antennae shooting upwards.

"This brings back memories," Stormer whispered, though she couldn't say why she was whispering. She also couldn't say that most of the memories were fond ones. However, she did always have a very small soft spot for Techrat. He was a fellow freak. Sometimes a small voice inside Stormer whispered that they were both geniuses as well – Techrat in the technology arena, and Stormer the musical.

Pizzazz rapped on the door. There was silence for several moments. Pizzazz knocked again. "Techrat, you in there?" she yelled.

"If he's in there, he's gotta know we're standin' here," Roxy said. "You can bet he's got a camera on this door."

The creaky door slowly opened. "How right you are, Roxy," spoke a raspy voice heard over an intercom.

"Oh cut with the drama, Techrat," Pizzazz said, walking through the open doorway into the darkness. Her bandmates followed her into the warehouse.

Once through the dark foyer, the Misfits needed time for their eyes to adjust to the brighter lights inside. When they could see clearly, it appeared that nothing had changed. The Misfits were standing inside a huge space crammed with electronic devices, chock full of computers and monitors, wires crisscrossing this way and that, and various other gadgets. Techrat sat at his workstation, wearing his familiar grey jacket. He looked the same as always; the only change Pizzazz could detect was that his hair was slightly longer. His head was still shaven on one side though.

"Well it's nice to see that despite how much things have changed outside, in here it's business as usual," Pizzazz remarked.

"Where's Eric Raymond?" Techrat rasped. "I haven't heard from him or received a payment for months."

Now there was a change, Pizzazz noted. She couldn't recall Techrat ever asking too many questions or mentioning money. As with Pizzazz herself, money was not his focus.

"He took off," Pizzazz said. "We haven't heard from him either." She paused and added, "But if you need money, we've got a job for you."

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Roxy's neck stood up. She thought back to the Misfits' earlier conversation in Pizzazz's room and felt again a stab of doubt as to whether they could trust Techrat now. Sure, he'd never turned them in before but times were so different back then. Besides, she thought, this band just got burned by trusting Riot. She looked around the room and doubted whether she could trust anyone in this world other than herself and her three bandmates.

Pizzazz and Techrat talked through the particulars. Pizzazz refrained from telling why they wanted to access the government files, and Techrat didn't ask. He told the group that he already had access to some Morality Office systems but not their more confidential records.

"I can try though. It's going to take some time."

"Well then get busy," Pizzazz demanded. She laid a stack of bills down on Techrat's workstation.

"Is it dangerous?" Jetta asked warily. "Can they tell that you're snooping around?"

"Where the Morality Office is concerned, it is always dangerous," Techrat said.

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When we returned to the mansion, there was a package for me. I approached it with some trepidation until I saw that it hailed from one of the leading florists.

I unwrapped the bouquet and dived for the note. It said.

Mary,

Just wanted to say how awesome you are.

Love,

Craig

I nearly squealed with happiness. I knew this was Craig's way of reassuring me, of again communicating that what he'd learned about me yesterday didn't make him care for me any less. I realized how rare a brother like Craig was. I also hoped that Aja fully appreciated what she had.

And for me, two bouquets in two days! Very exciting for someone who loves flowers and craves being appreciated.

"A gift from someone you met at the bar?" Roxy teased, as she walked by the foyer where I stood with the flowers.

"Nah. They're from my brother."

"Huh," was Roxy's reply. I remembered what I'd learned about her not long ago, the fact that she had an older half-brother. But it sounded like they barely knew each other, and again I was thankful for Craig.

I heard a shriek from Pizzazz, emanating from one of the living rooms. At first I was alarmed, until I realized that this type of yelp was actually her victory screech, not a distress call. Roxy and I entered the room to find Pizzazz and Jetta combing through newspapers.

"Marvelous!" Pizzazz exclaimed.

"The coverage of the concert," Jetta explained.

Roxy and I sat down and perused the headlines. Indeed, the media coverage was sensational. Several great pictures of us and smashing reviews of the show. Not one hatchet-job on us either.

"We gotta make sure that we tape all the TV footage too," I reminded the group.

"That's right!" Jetta said. "I nearly forgot. Clash used to do all that."

Just as with Techrat, we hadn't had contact with Clash for quite some time. Clash had slowly dug her own grave with this band. First she (unintentionally, I assume) rubbed in our faces how close she and her father were. (Not a good idea for a band where all the members, especially the leader, had family problems). She then let slip her desire to join the Misfits. Once she did that, we pretty much closed ranks against her. And finally, she'd failed to come through one too many times on her plans to bring down Jem and the Holograms and Video. Her last stand involved a deal where she promised to air a video that would humiliate Jem and the Holograms on live TV in exchange for being allowed to join the Misfits. (Though I doubt that Pizzazz was going to hold up her end of the bargain here.) The plan backfired, to say the least, and the final nail was hammered into Clash's coffin. The last few times she'd tried to see us, Pizzazz had refused her. None of us had heard from her for ages.

I'd never been crazy about Clash. When she first began to hang out with us, it seemed for a short while that Pizzazz liked her better than me and I worried about being squeezed out of the group's inner circle. It wasn't just that, though. All I can say is that her personality didn't "gel" with mine and I never felt an affinity for her.

However, as Jetta had implied, Clash was useful at times. Her schemes usually failed but she regularly presented us with these gorgeous scrapbooks of magazine and newspaper clippings. She'd give us collages of our pictures. She tracked down concert photographers, selected the best shots, had them enlarged, framed, and then bestowed them upon us. For a second or two I actually felt a tug of sadness.

Roxy shrugged. "Ain't nothin' we can't do ourselves. Let's turn that TV on."

Later on in the evening, Pizzazz went out. Jetta pulled Roxy and me together.

"Now's our chance," she began. "Remember yesterday we agreed that we'd buy her a gift as a thank you? For the bouquets she sent us."

"Yes!" I said. "That is a great idea. Do you still want to maybe get her a piece of jewelry?"

Jetta held out an advertisement from a local jewelry store. "Look at these gorgeous necklaces and bracelets. Let's pay them a visit and see what they have on offer."

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Aja and Craig went out jogging the afternoon following the concert. After their jog, they stopped at a take out place, and then headed back to the Phillips house to watch a rented movie and eat.

Craig had two messages waiting for him when he returned. One was from Stormer, profusely thanking him for the flowers. The other was from the band leader of the group he'd auditioned for. With the music scene floundering, Craig had auditioned to play in a group that made its living by performing recognizable pop tunes at weddings and other formal occasions. It was a far cry from the type of rock band he wanted to be in.

"Well, I have a job now," Craig said, sounding as enthusiastic as one normally gets over a root canal.

"That's fantastic!" Aja said.

"I guess so," Craig said, bringing Aja a drink as he seated himself next to her on the sofa.

"C'mon, it's honest work. Be proud of it," she encouraged. She took a sip of her soda.

"I am. Maybe now that I have a job I can take you somewhere nice."

"You did take me somewhere nice. I had a great time at the park – and at everything today. There's nothing I'd rather be doing."

Craig smiled, once again realizing what a rare jewel held his heart. Many young women – especially those who had traveled all around the world playing in a famous rock band – would have been less than impressed spending time on a date jogging at a park, eating take out, and watching a rented movie.

"Have I mentioned lately that I am the luckiest guy in the world?" Craig asked.

Aja smiled. She then said, mischievously, "Well I have to confess to you, Craig that I lied just now when I said there was nothing I'd rather be doing. I can think of one thing."

She reached for him and pulled him into a kiss. As their lips caressed each other's, Aja felt her knees shake. The practical, rational mind inside of her floated away happily, to be replaced by a passionate woman. This new territory was both frightening and alluring. She lost herself in the kisses.

It had been almost a relief for Aja, in a strange sort of way, when Craig had left for England and not joined the Holograms. The feelings were so intense and scary for her as her psyche traveled down unexplored paths.

After several delightful moments, the rational mind returned and Aja abruptly pulled away from the kisses.

"Sorry," Craig began, "I didn't mean to – "

"No, no, you're fine," Aja stammered. "It's just that I…You know, I'm a – "

"It's okay," he replied softly. "I understand."

Aja remembered some sage advice she had received from Shana. Anthony had been Shana's first serious relationship, just as Craig was Aja's. As one of the few people who could draw out the quiet Shana, Aja had been lucky to receive her friend's insights one day. He can't read your mind,' Shana's voice rang out inside Aja's head. And you can't read his. You gotta talk about the hard stuff. Doing that actually helps bring you closer.'

"You know, maybe we should talk about this a bit," Aja said. "It's so easy to talk to you about pretty much anything. I just wanted to say that I feel really close to you in every way. I'm happy with the way our relationship is going." She paused. "I've never been in a relationship before, and I'm just not ready for anything… deeper yet." As she spoke, she glanced in the direction of the hallway which led to the bedrooms.

"Aja, I care about you very much. I respect you and your wishes," Craig said, intently. "I won't pressure you for anything you're not ready for."

Aja smiled. "Now which one of us is the lucky one?" she asked, dreamily.

"I still say it's me," Craig smiled back. He then looked down before meeting her eyes again, "Hey, um, speaking of stuff that's hard to talk about. Should we talk about what happened at the concert yesterday?"

"We probably should," Aja replied, with the same amount of enthusiasm that Craig had for his new gig. She wondered if maybe heading back in the direction of discussing sex would have been easier.

"A while ago I promised you that I'd never again ask you for Jem's real identity. And I won't break that promise," he committed. He paused and then said, "I get the idea that somehow what happened yesterday with Mary is connected to that, though. Like somehow Jem had the ability to fake out everyone and make it appear as though someone else was my sister for a period of time."

Aja sighed. She met his gaze. "Craig, I wish I could tell you more than that, but I can't."

"And…once again, I won't pressure you into doing something you're not ready for. I was also thinking of something though. Mary used to – apparently think that if I found out she was gay, the world would stop turning or at the very least that I'd stop caring about her. She was wrong about that. You might be wrong about not telling me this."

"That may be so," Aja admitted. "But part of the problem is that the secret's not mine to give away. Or, at the very least, it's not mine alone."

"Well, can I ask you this? Do I need to be worried about it? About you?"

Aja shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Jem and the Holograms have managed this situation for years. We'll be fine. Besides….I can take care of myself."

"I've noticed," he said, admiringly.

Aja smiled at the compliment and then took a sip of her drink. "You know, Craig, if you are going to be worried about someone…." she let her voice trail off. "I'm a bit worried about Stormer. What happened with the authorities at the concert. Who says it won't happen again?"

"I know," Craig said glumly. "I know, and I have no idea what to do."

"If we're ever in a situation where we can help again like we did yesterday, we will. But we're not usually there."

"I'm going to talk to Mary about this," he resolved.

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The following day, Pizzazz walked down the grand hallway and headed towards the dining room for lunch. She noticed a small box sitting at her place at the head of the table. It was festively wrapped with shiny paper and decorated with a red bow. The other Misfits watched her.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, as she tore off the wrapping paper. She tossed it onto the floor and ripped the lid off the box.

Inside was a bracelet made of white gold, boasting lush green emeralds that matched the glint in Pizzazz's eyes. The bracelet sparkled brightly.

"It's from us, luv," Jetta smiled. "The three of us."

"We thought that since you gave us flowers at the concert, we should also get you a little gift," Stormer added.

"Great, just great," Pizzazz muttered sarcastically, as she put the bracelet around her wrist. Roxy got up to assist her with the clasp. "Is there a sappy card that goes along with it? Maybe I oughtta dye my hair pink given how schmaltzy we're gettin' with each other."

"Yeah!" Roxy laughed. "And we can do songs about reading and playin' fair!"

"And we can adopt homeless orphans and raise them!" Stormer contributed.

Jetta giggled, her eyes wide. "Maybe we can even be reinstated as virgins!"

The band nearly fell down laughing. And the others knew that Pizzazz was pleased with the gesture; playfully mocking it was one way she'd demonstrated that. If she hadn't liked the gift or the gesture, she would've screamed and thrown the bracelet out the window.

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Two days after the concert, Riot paced the floor of his lavish penthouse apartment. Minx and Rapture sat on the sofa, watching him move around.

"I can't believe it. Our plan failed," Riot seethed. He walked in front of the apartment's fake fireplace. An abstract painting with shades of yellow and black adorned the space above the mantle.

Minx was filing her nails, and she shook her head with mock disgust. She wasn't too upset though. She and one of the reporters she'd met that evening had hit it off well.

"There has to be something we can do to get at them. Look at the members of that band," Riot continued. He counted them off on his fingers. "They have that illegitimate member; that Brit who hasn't ever even tried to become a US citizen unlike what you're doing, Minx; Pizzazz who's had more one-night stands than you can count; and that damn lesbian!"

"Well, as it stands right now, only the last one is considered a crime by the Morality Office. The others aren't yet," Rapture said glumly. She hated seeing Riot so upset.

"I do hope we frazzled them by sending those officers to the mansion before the concert," she added, referring to the officers who had investigated Roxy and placed her name in a database tracking those whose parents were not married.

"They're so dense that it didn't even tip them off," Minx chuckled. She then turned serious and added, "But Riot, who cares about the Misfits? Why are you wasting so much energy on them?"

"We've discussed this before," responded an irritated Riot. It wasn't appropriate for Minx to question his decisions. "Our band is clearly superior, but we want the Misfits out of the way when the economy recovers. It would mean one fewer band to compete with on airplay, ticket sales, and record sales. In fact, given how poor the economy is now, the sooner they are out of the way, the better. Our show last night may have been a media triumph but in terms of sales figures it was not. The Gen Corp Arena wasn't even sold out."

"I agree, Riot," Rapture contributed. "Let's get them out of the way. It will be fun to see Pizzazz and the others taken down a notch or two." She paused. "But there's one thing I don't understand. Stormer passed the blood test before the concert."

"I don't understand how she did that," Riot said, shaking his head. "The officer I spoke to in Chicago was certain it was her. There are a lot of women named Mary Phillips but when I showed him her picture, he was positive that she was the one. He swore up and down that she failed the test. And I can tell when someone is lying."

"Well, did you ever see the test result or the sample itself from Chicago?" Rapture asked.

"No. Both were destroyed – they destroy them after a while and the only thing they keep is the report, which said that Stormer's test was inconclusive."

Rapture leaned forward in her seat and began, gently, "Riot, are you sure that that officer wasn't lying or maybe confused? I mean, Stormer sure doesn't look or act like a gay woman to me."

"I am certain that I am right. After all, am I not Riot?" he asked, his voice rising in intensity. "Our chance to embarrass the Misfits and get rid of those nuisances once and for all is gone."

Riot had nothing against gay people in general Gay men made up a large portion of his fan base, and he bore them no ill will. They were permitted to worship him from afar, as could any other fan. It was the Misfits that Riot wanted out of the picture, and a public scandal seemed such an easy and convenient way to bring them down.

Prior to their blood tests on the night of the concert, Minx and Rapture had been privately tested just to ensure that they would pass. The Stingers occasionally all shared a bed together, experiencing each other's erotic attentions. Whatever behavior Minx and Rapture might have engaged in for Riot's pleasure was not due to any orientation that could be detected in their DNA.

"I'm certain that something's not adding up here," Riot continued as he walked towards his massive desk. He retrieved his leather-bound address book from one of the drawers. "I am going to pay another visit to my friend at the LA office. Maybe I can look at the blood samples from the concert myself."

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"Jerrica, do you mind if I make a long distance phone call from here? I'll pay Starlight House back for the costs."

Raya approached Jerrica early one morning. She reached the president of Starlight Music as she was hurrying through a breakfast consisting of dry toast and fruit. Raya was glad she'd caught her. She knew that Jerrica would soon be heading out for a long day at the office, before returning to Starlight House for a practice session as Jem with the Holograms that evening.

"Sure thing, Raya," Jerrica replied. Hunched over financial statements, she looked up briefly to smile at the drummer. "Oh, and you certainly don't need to pay Starlight House back for the cost. Are you calling a relative in Mexico?"

Raya nodded. "I'll keep it short. I know we need to watch every penny nowadays."

"Don't worry about it," Jerrica said. Raya glanced at the numbers on the spreadsheet that Jerrica had been examining and knew that balance sheets and financial returns weighed heavily on her friend's mind. Raya herself did not have Jerrica's financial aptitude and felt glad that she did not have to run a record company.

Raya couldn't make the call from her parents' house, despite the fact that they had a calling plan used for reaching relatives in Mexico. She wanted privacy for this call, and the small Alonso abode did not afford much in the way of solitude, especially now that one of her brothers had taken up residence in her old room.

Later, Raya resolved that she would pay Starlight House back for the call. She and her cousin Humberto had spent nearly a half hour on the phone, despite Raya's determination to keep the call brief. She had not spoken with her cousin since she was about 11 or 12. She realized that his life was not exactly the lonely wasteland she had envisioned it since he had come out and been disowned by the rest of the family. He had a loving partner and a small circle of friends, and a few of his blood relatives even made covert trips to socialize with them.

The Holograms' drummer silently thanked Stormer for giving her the catalyst she needed to initiate contact with Humberto.

TO BE CONTINUED

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