Author's foreword:
Hope you enjoy this take on what could've been. In that, Nightstar isn't an OC, she's from an elseworld story called "Kingdom Come" from back in the 1990s. Why they never did anything else with her, I have no idea.
March of the Non-Melting Menace!
Look, there she is!
She's so pretty.
What do you expect, given her genes?
I wish I had a rack that big.
I wonder if she's as strong as her mom…
And there it was. Sometimes she wondered if a freak cosmic occurrence had swapped her father's DNA with Superman's, since Mary had the ability of super-hearing when it least suited her.
Brushing her long black hair over her shoulder, her abnormal (around here, anyway) body temperature growing hotter from having her hot button pushed, Mary hastened her walk past the quartet of gushing fangirls waiting at the nearby bus stop. It wasn't easy to wear a hoodie; even with the hood down, her body temperature made her sweat something fierce. The trade-off of less sunlight hitting her skin didn't help much. She was thankful that a cool July wind was there to ease her discomfort, if not her anxiety. She'd picked the right Sunday to go out.
Still, most people on Jump City's sidewalks knew about the Titans, and knew about her. They also knew better than to approach her looking for autographs or meet-and-greets when she was in this get-up.
Thank you, Mr. DeGrasse Tyson, she thought. Of all the people to learn the "wear baggy clothing to broadcast your desire to be left alone" trick from, an elderly philosopher-physicist wouldn't usually spring to mind. Even if she hadn't plucked up the courage to talk to him, most Jump City people remembered that little episode she'd had as a child. She was beyond that now, but sometimes the thought occurred in the back of her mind to reenact it. Fortunately, and unfortunately, she was beyond that, too.
So, in times like this, when shucking her sweatshirt would invite more nerve-grinding comments, she had an alternative solution.
I need a pick-me-up, Ed.
Pulling out her smartphone and plugging in her headphones, she had the video downloaded and saved for times like this. A bright smile broke on her crimson lips as soon as Ed reached the "va-" in "Josie's on a vacation far away." Any more unwanted comparisons were soon drowned out by the lead singer of The Outfield… or the sounds of Ed eating his own mattress.
Sanctuary at last welcomed her in. Out of the noonday sun, off the sidewalk, away from prying eyes, now she could relax and unwind here. She'd been roped into all sorts of world-threatening, mind-bending things in her short life, even before she was an adult. Through it all, The Comet Club was her safe haven. She'd call it her "safe space", but she'd seen enough of space to know that was an oxymoron.
Passing through the front seating area, the middle aisle was occupied by a man squatting near a longbox, exchanging its contents with issues on the shelf.
"Hello, Clark."
"Hey, Mary," said the owner, not even looking up as she walked by. He jerked a thumb towards the back counter. "Randy'll take your card."
Mary smiled at that. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see me."
As she walked by the shelves, Mary tugged her hoodie over her head and slung it around her waist. The cool air was like a relaxing soak in an ice tub on her orange skin, her revealing under-attire doing nothing to keep it out. This also meant her large breasts flopped down as she pulled it off, which, in turn, meant Randy's eyes darted to her cleavage before his college-student eyes remembered their social graces. Her mom never understood why people did that, her dad failed to explain it, and Mary herself couldn't rationalize it. If someone found something beautiful, why would they not look at it? It's not as if Mary didn't admire herself in the mirror at home, or similarly busty women online.
"...Hi," Randy said, now looking at her exposed navel, waiting for her to hold out her membership card.
Mary bailed him out by intercepting his gaze with her card. "Hello, Randy. How's college?"
The skinny brunet shrugged as he took it. "Still overpriced, for the crap they make you take. Don't think I need to learn about Italian Fascism as a business major."
"Everyone should learn about Italian Fascism," said the third and final occupant of The Comet Club, "seeing most people haven't."
"Hello, Victor," Mary said, turning to the third occupant of the Club, reclining six feet away in the rear seating area.
Victor didn't even look up from his… Eighth, nineth read-through of Gotrek & Felix: The Second Omnibus? That book was so worn that the front cover looked like it belonged in the Library of Alexandria.
Instead, Victor waved two fingers at the counter. "Yo." He then went back to humming, of all things, "Your Love" by The Outfield. To think, a silly video about a love song from the 1980s had been the foundation of their friendship.
"You don't need me to tell you your membership is still good," Randy said, handing her card back. He gestured about the club. "Soda fountain, seating, bathrooms, blah blah blah."
"Of course!" Mary said, smiling at him. Now that her sweatshirt was off, she felt the weight of her breasts more as she turned away and started thumbing the comic shelves. She also felt Randy's eyes were on her again, but didn't mind. Being admired for her features was hardly something she disliked. It's why, despite her peeves, she still wore her traditional Tamaranian skin-tight singlet beneath her shirt and track pants.
"If you're looking for the latest one-shot," Clark said, creakily standing up with a comic book in his hand, "it's right here."
"You're the best, Clark!" she exclaimed. Here it was: the next issue of Multiversity, which Clark and Randy insisted were one-shots but Mary knew otherwise. Grant Morrison had been raising this baby for years and he showed no signs of stopping now, or growing more sane. That's what Mary loved about the series: Morrison wasn't always good, but when he channeled all his insanity into something, the results were never dull. He had the strangest yet most wonderful takes on the people that Mary grew up with.
She was so excited to read it that her feet left the floor and she flew over to join Victor.
"Cookie?" he asked as she floated down opposite him, turning the page before reaching into his fleece to pull out a zip lock bag of chocolate chip drop cookies. Why he, a human, wore a dark blue fleece in the middle of July, Mary had no idea. The round-rim Ben Franklin sunglasses she understood, even though he also wore them indoors, but a fleece? And long-sleeve black track pants? His attire was baffling.
The cookie, however, was not. Accepting it, Mary popped it in her mouth before settling in. The Comet Club, named for a one-off location from The Tick animated series, was Jump City's answer to manga cafes in Japan. It was like a library and lounge with cheap sodas and a weekly membership fee, but the comics and fantasy novels it stocked were top quality... usually. Randy had his Rom: Space Knight obsession, Victor swore by anything with Stephen, Leon, or William King's name on it, and Clark? Well, if he didn't like it, then it didn't remain in stock for long.
"Randy, could you put a small cola on my card?" she asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the cover featuring a roided out Ambush Bug teleporting out of the way of a tentacle attached to a Lovecraftian centaur-like monster with the upper body and head of a Blackie Lawless lookalike. 1980s Blackie Lawless, that is. The cover made her sigh, longingly. For all her notoriety, she'd never met Ambush Bug or Blackie Lawless. Her father met Blackie once just before his "K.F.D." tour had nearly been derailed by supervillain-sponsored kidnapping.
Ambush Bug, though? No one she'd talked to had met Ambush Bug, or seen him, but her father swore up and down that Batman had once had a very strange encounter with him. Aquaman, too, though he swore he didn't.
Mary shook her head. "Less dwelling, more reading."
This place was Mary's safe haven, where no one compared her and she could indulge in her strange taste of '80s pop songs and heavy metal music while reading comic books in peace… until a scream from outside brought her out of her trip through Grant Morrison's mad, mad, mad, mad world.
Mary groaned, setting the book on her padded armrest. Please don't call please don't call please don't call please don't-
Her soothing reading music, which some people thought strange considering it was mostly ACCEPT songs, was replaced by her ringtone. Screwing her eyes shut, still praying, she flicked her phone's screen and took the call.
"Hello, Dad…"
"Mari, there's a disturbance near your location. I want you to-"
"I'll look into it, Dad."
She hung up, got up, and walked over to where Clark was finishing his business with the longbox.
"Save this for when I get back," she said, handing him Multiversity back.
"Will do," Clark replied, placing it in the long box.
With a sigh and the application of more music, Mary's happy thoughts returned enough for her to fly.
Floating over the fleeing populace, all of whom were too frightened to give her any comparisons, it was a block around the corner, near the Mr. Softee ice cream plant, that she found what had everyone spooked.
It was a horde of amorphous blobs. Growling, shifting, spongy-looking pink creatures lurched and shuffled down the street like overgrown slugs. They'd already smothered a few people with their mass, flailing hands sticking out of the top of a few, while others were piling on to a screeching car, ironically stuck in front of a stop sign.
"Aliens or lab experiments?" Mary said aloud. "Priorities…"
She flew over to one of the flailing hands. The blob monster's mass rose at her like a tidal wave, burbling angrily at her. Her bad mood flowed into her hands; a scarlet energy ball blasted the monster's upper half.
"Help m-!" cried the man trapped within, still up to his waist in the monster's mass. Already it was flowing up his body, trying to recapture his face. Gripping his wrists, Mary soared up, yanking him out of the monster's mass. Continuing her arc, she let him down atop the roof of the Mr. Softee garage, before flying back in to look for more victims. Six more people she managed to pull out, the sixth coughing and hacking up pink liquid from her throat. Hopefully, they'd be safe until she found a way to deal with these… whatever they were.
"I was in my happy place!" Mary shouted, winding up another energy blast. "You things pulled me out!"
One of the monsters roared at her, balling up before leaping into the air. Spreading itself out like a net, it didn't help its chances when Mary blasted it to melted milkshake. Gobs of itself flew all around, and unfortunately, some of it got in Mary's mouth.
"Oh, gross! Ptheh! Egh!" Her tongue touched some of it and- "Wait…"
Some drizzled down her cheek. Her tongue touched it again, just to make sure.
Mary wasn't sure how to feel, besides horrified. "Strawberry ice cream…"
"Maybe later, starshine."
Mary whirled and looked down at that voice. "Dad?!"
There he was, in all his middle-aged glory. Richard "Dick" Grayson, the first Robin and currently going by Nightwing, was pulling up on the street atop his shiny indigo motorcycle. The edges of his hair were bleached white with age, but even in his late forties, the muscles of his skin-tight uniform said he could still go.
...and so could his orange-skinned life-partner, as Mary had discovered one very awkward night.
"They're made of ice cream!" she shouted. "Strawberry-flavored!"
"I know sweets are bad for you, but this is crazy!" Nightwing replied, seeing the nearby car's engine die. "Get those people out of that car! I'll draw them away."
"All right!" Flying just became easier for Mary; she was always happy to see her dad.
She flew over to the car and started peppering the roof with weak energy blasts. "You really put the 'junk' in junk food! Come on, eat me! Eat me!"
The killer ice cream took the bait and oozed its soft-served mass at her, sliding off the front of the car. Mary flew circles around it, retreating slowly and forcing the ice cream to relinquish more of the car. On her third orbit, it could only engulf one side at a time, though the mother and children within were too scared to get out. Maybe-
"Wha-?!" Another blob caught her like a baseball mitt, swallowing her up. Her Tamaranian body temperature made it feel unbearably cold against her skin; she wished she'd put her sweatshirt back on. The monster pressed against her nostrils and she blew air out to keep it at bay. The thought of being brain-frozen to death was enough to fuel some serious power; she started cutting loose with the blasts, beaming red at the thing and trying to create an opening. Somehow it was compressing her, fighting to keep her down even as she tried to fly upward. She couldn't catch a break.
She felt a small metal object dink off her flailing hand, and instantly knew what it was. Ooooh no…
PSHOOM!
The smoke bomb went off, causing the monster to swell from the sudden gas pocket it created. Mary seized her chance and rocketed into the smoke, tearing free of the ice cream blob and flying head-first into the dead car.
"Ow," she muttered, more a force of habit than from the minor bump.
She felt freezing cold engulf her ankle.
"NO!" she barked, blasting it off of her. Just for good measure, she proceeded to rain energy blasts on the monster until it was nothing but a pink puddle. Panting, but feeling really good about herself, she turned to get a thumbs-up from her dad and-
"Watch it!" he shouted, throwing a concussion bomb past her. The kinetic explosive produced a shock but no shrapnel, blowing apart the reformed strawberry blob behind her.
"What?! Oh, come on!" She flew away from it, grabbing her dad's outstretched hand as she did so. Flying them up to join the rescuees on the roof, Nightwing put a foot on the edge and surveyed the situation. "Looks like they reform once the heat goes out of them. How do we-"
"The Comet Club!" Mary exclaimed, tracking their paths to the corner. "I thought you were drawing them away!"
"Away from the car, remember?"
Mary couldn't argue with that. Instead, she zipped down the block and around the corner. Bursting through the door, she found the front room bereft of anyone, save Victor.
Flying up to him, she frantically shook his (surprisingly beefy) shoulders. "Victor! Out! Now!"
Nonchalantly looking up at her, then checking his pocket watch, he frowned. "It's not closing time."
"It is when you're starring in 'Mr. Softee's Revenge'!"
Pointing out the front windows, one of those lurching pink scoops was sliding up and down the window, trying to find a way in.
Victor cocked an eyebrow, though he didn't take off his sunglasses. "Ice cream?"
"Not so sweet, is it? Now run!"
"Why don't you just melt it?"
Mary was ready to pull at her hair with this ongoing episode of nonchalance. "Because they don't stay melted! They cool down as soon as the heat leaves!"
"You try vinegar?"
Mary blinked. "What?"
"Vinegar," Victor repeated with a shrug. "Or salt. Dissolve a solute in something and it lowers the freezing point without changing the temperature. That's how they deal with icy roads."
"Great! Thanks!" Flying out the door, and blasting the pink trespasser for good measure, Mary quickly found her father circling the ice cream invaders on his motorcycle, trying to herd them like cattle.
"Dad, where's the nearest grocery?"
"Why would… Salt! Good thinking! That should buy us some time. You keep them corralled; I'll get the groceries."
He was right. If these things could cool off when melted, surely they could cool further once the salt dissolved in them. Still, it would take less effort on their part.
"Where's everyone else?" she asked.
"Raven's coming out of meditation, Beast B- Changeling is with Raven, Creeper's walking Scott, and Starfire-"
"Never mind," Mary said, cutting him off and flying away. A few pot shots at the literal ice cream men didn't deter their lurching march, but it did get their ire.
Okay, Mary thought. Now to just keep my distance...
One of the creatures balled itself into a sphere and sprang into another. This second one was joined by a third, all three linking to create this ball-and-legs thing with no upper torso, or so Mary thought. With a coordination unseen thus far, the two "legs" stretched out and flung their third at her, so fast that her blast was more a fear response than a trained one.
"Ugh! Yuck!" It wasn't her favorite sweatshirt, but now it had sticky ice cream goo on it and the stuff that wasn't in her shirt was crawling up her leg.
Her anger her boon, she let loose a blast from her whole body, blowing the sticky gunk away as well as the next incoming scoop. The ice cream men (as she decided to call them) were now forming up into teams, hurling their comrades at her as she dove and wove between projectiles.
Wait, if they're all blobs-
Alarm shot through her body. She turned around to see a now 11-foot, pink Thing From Another World twisting and thrashing to life behind her.
"X'hal!" She flew back but a maw like a bear trap split down its middle and lunged at her. A massive blob crashed against her back and forced her right into its jaws.
She'd had nightmares about John Carpenter's "The Thing" ever since she was 11, when she'd wandered in on Raven and Changeling watching it, and this monster was straight out of the horrible "blood test" scene. Closing its jaws around her hips, the cold pink mass started crawling up her body as she tried to find her fury. Instead, all she could do was panic.
"Little salt with that?" called a familiar voice.
"DAD? DAD!" She couldn't think straight. Thrashing around made her hands sink into its mass, absorbing her, assimilating-
Freedom! She flew away as fast as she could, crashing into a mailbox on the street and scattering the clingy pink around herself. Sometimes, having emotions as a power source was a major drag.
"Here!" he shouted, tossing her a huge bag of salt. Nightwing drove a line through the horde, flinging boxes of iodized salt left and right as he went. Concussion explosives were attached to each, and the result was small clouds of salt blasting their way into the creatures' bodies.
"THIS IS FOR RUINING MY 'ME' TIME!" Mary shouted, ripping the top off the bag and flying up, some good old revenge as her happy thought. The creatures made no noise as they melted, simply shifting around. They seemed baffled as to why they were melting. Nightwing completed his charge and circled back around, stopping just long enough to collect a sample from the closest melting blob.
Mary was getting a little winded. This is way more stress than I planned for today.
The ice cream men had dissolved into a pink carpet on the street, several spots of futile movement as some spark of will created tiny anthills in the slime, before they fell flat again.
"Maybe…" Mary put a finger to her cheek. "Would dissolving them in water stop them?"
"It might," Nightwing replied, looking at the specimen tube with the captive sample inside. The melted ice cream swayed from side to side, pressing one side of the glass, then the other, too small and weak to make any progress. "They only seem animated when they're solid."
Looking around the field of strawberry goo, Mary had to agree with her father. The motion on the ground had stopped.
"This just in: killer pink dairy found in violation of FDA!" called a new, slightly manic-sounding voice. "Both Ben and Jerry refuse comment!"
Nightwing winced. "Oh, no…"
Mary covered her mouth with her hand, lest her dad grouse at her for laughing.
The speaker was perched atop a fire hydrant, holding the leash to a fully-grown Bengal tiger. He was a yellow-skinned, wacky man in striped green briefs, the darker ones matching his green hair. Red clawed gloves and knee-high red boots covered the ends of his limbs, both trimmed with black feathers to compliment his red boa.
"And now the weather!" Creeper said, whipping the boa around his neck to keep it out of the slime. "Hot, dry days ahead! To any killer mutant ice cream monsters watching..."
He looked down at the hydrant, still talking to himself. "Staaay hydrated!"
With one claw, he ripped the cap off the hydrant and cranked the valve bolt with his fingers. A sideways geyser burst from the hydrant, breaking up the melted ice cream and washing it down the nearby storm drain. Tying the tiger to the hydrant, he leapt across the street and did the same to a hydrant on the other side, creating a cross-stream that quickly dispersed the remains of the ice cream men. Lucky that Creeper had a few screws that weren't loose, else someone else would've had to turn off the water.
Untying the tiger, Creeper picked it up over his head. "Come on, Scott, let's get the inside scoop on this Ice Cream Day disaster!"
By the time Creeper left, Nightwing had slumped forward over his motorcycle, groaning endlessly. "How did I get talked into this…"
Mary floated down, her green eyes screwed shut and both hands over her mouth. As if Creeper wasn't enough, the effect he had on her dad made it twice as hard to resist laughing. Laughing would only spark Nightwing's ire and "disapproving dad" face, a third thing Mary found hilarious.
Sighing, Nightwing stowed the vial in his utility belt and revved up his engine. "Come on, Nightstar, let's head back to base. Maybe we can figure out what the fudgesicle just… Ugh."
That pun finally broke her. Mary collapsed on the rear seat of the motorcycle, choking on laughter the whole ride home.
Author's note:
In addition to elements from the comics, I am also pulling elements from the Timm-Diniverse, Glen Murakami's Teen Titans cartoon, and Batman: The Brave and the Bold. I look forward to hearing your thoughts and reviews, especially after the Titans figure out who's behind this.
