Twelve thousand hours. One by one, willingly or not, the original crew had counted them all.
During the moment when Bender saved his shiny metal ass, he'd have never computed the misery of Mayoral duties to come. Of having no true friends outside obedience, of made machines coming for his motherboard. Thought himself too great to suffer, until the truth was relayed and zapped into his antenna.
The day Leela thought her world had split apart, she never imagined the ambitions that Archbury still indulged in, nor of the conflicts to come. Aside from work only the tragic memories remained; it took serious efforts to snap her out, maybe even severe.
Since the months of being dragged along, strapped down and injected, Fry's headaches seared pictures to shame his believers. Saviour, peacemaker and flourisher under most forms of himself, yet destroyer, subjugator and plunderer as The Admiral. A fate that only his friends and unexpected messengers had helped him to avoid.
Together, in hopefully closing that chapter for good, they cracked open a brand new world, brimming full of second chances. And in the hours before Leela wished farewell, she sure didn't kid the kid about duty always calling.
Sometime after a delivery, she received a proposal to meet Kif aboard the Nimbus. Motives spurred from his old boss's threats, grudges and previous bloodshed, the new DOOP General had promised under personal creeds that he would ready his men for anything.
Part of that involved Leela signing THE landmark deal for Planet Express, at least judging by her dumbfounded silence. In exchange for extra rations, comfier uniforms and better equipment, they'd be paid out of a money ladder, leagues beyond any client she could remember thanks to Nixon's generous funding.
In between the big bucks, Army canonisings, and extra perks to follow; among them full support against damages and crate-loads of perfected serum, she had to pinch herself before taking stares towards the stars, before gripping Fry's hand for the walk home.
A future of true freedom, the likes she'd never known before, and perhaps since.
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The couple couldn't think of any better consolation prize than to caress each other in bed; her eye shut and smile wide, while he began to nestle on her chest. Dreams of pleasure and warmth for both, only interrupted when Fry flopped face-first to the mattress and woke up startled.
A situation to leave him scratching his head, ready to call out until he saw her scribble in fury, a strong coffee sat by her notepad in the kitchen.
"Morning Leels… What's got you so fired up?"
"Good morning!" she beamed. "Glad you're up, had myself some dreams of coming back to crime-fighting."
"Even after all you went through?" as he ordered a coffee, and sat beside.
"ESPECIALLY after. The kid was right; As a Cookieville survivor, who better than me to stand for the weak? Besides, that night when I ripped Zookeeper apart, all I knew was how much that side of me begged to come out again."
"I don't know if I should be scared, or aroused. Could I be scaroused?"
She gave a small chuckle, before revealing that Clobberella would no longer be back. Too much baggage from yesteryear's tragedies, and after her last victory, the persona deserved its dignified retirement.
This time, from the biggest comic geek she knew, she wanted suggestions on another look. A picture of all-business attraction, of emphasising her look without making it exclusive. A piece both picturesque and practical; comfortable to travel in, yet a look to scream 'badass.'
Not the easiest project to do research on, but Fry declared he would die before he didn't deliver.
An extreme option, as despite his expertise, and especially between their homes, HQ and beyond the horizon, all their inspirations and ideas left only broken pencils, crumpled papers and arguments to show for their efforts. Came a little to a head, during the weekend morning.
"Geez, what kind of comics do you read again? I could bend some rules, but like THAT?"
"Sorry babe, the shops I've seen only had those ones, and they weren't always read for story."
"Ughhh… There any wonder why I can't get this started?" There went the 100th draft, crumpled and tossed onto her floor, and don't get her started about her cabin. In fact, morning became evening when Fry would find Leela snoring over her desk, her chin cradled and ready to drop.
He was just about to slip his jacket around her—the weather having cooled in recent days—when she woke, crying "Ow!" as her head thudded the desk.
"Leela, how 'bout a little break? Maybe there's some cosmic bowling or—?"
"Crime never rests, Fry. To be honest, I thought you'd have me fighting by now."
As he used those drafts in an impromptu game of 'Paper is Lava', he could only shrug as he reached her bed.
"Well, sorry Leels. Been a while since I caught up, I mean—"
"Oh, don't worry, it's not your fault. Every Captain's got to get their bearings, and you're no exception."
"Tell me about it. Well, if I get any picture headaches, I'll let you know."
He then cracked open another comic, no word to leave his lips as he escaped real life once again. A chance stroll past the 20th-century store to find this one, and it must've been fate when Leela snapped at him to stop humming his song. Her glimpse of the cover, and a grin soon to follow.
"Hey Fry, do you mind if I borrow that comic from you?"
"Mi comic es su comic, babe. Now how's that for romance?"
"Oh, you've done better." She then curled her lips. "Maybe you could prove it later tonight?"
"Oh, you are SO on!"
As Fry left for having nothing else to do, Leela sat alone to scan the magazine. A copied variant of an All-Star Comic, circa 1976. Letters italicised & blocked, but no words needed for the white, red and gold-clad warrior shining underneath. Her fists possessing such power as to create the literal stars that adorned the cover.
And for how she angled those buns, flexed her arms, puffed her chest…
It had great overtures blast in Leela's head, having her almost tear the paper for the maddened notes scribbled down. A love story at first sight, and an origin to only enamour her more. This alien creature, sent to Earth to escape a dying planet. To live, learn, grow, and develop among humans, until she was ready to enter her role as that beacon of hope.
To shine in darkest times, to clear the skies of cloudy days…
For most enthusiasts, a tale older than the deepest caverns, but to the Captain, a shout-out to the life she never knew appreciation for. A story that, following a tweak or two, she knew could capture the minds and hearts of not just her city and country, but the entire world and universe too.
Could see it now; a lovely summer day, a typical bank-robber, and her cutting off to shake him before shattering his jaw. Cue a pose over the prone body, that ever-mysterious hero wind to flutter her hair, and some personal mementos before the news cameras flashed in…
As such thoughts whirled through her head, as the clock hands moved miles for her work, she finally began listing the goods she needed. To that tweaked base outfit, brand new accessories and golden eye symbols to put it together. For the rest, three yards each of sturdy material, ones to gleam and glimmer given the right light and movement.
Her look now firm in mind, she started to get serious quotes from around the nation, all as she gathered ideas on the tools she'd grab to make law life a little easier. Anti-grav belts, her share of guns, other nifty gadgets…
"Slow down, don't get too excited…"
Thankful for Battler's gear being left behind, she had the outfit to call and crunch numbers in private, at will. A generous estimate was projected from two days to two weeks, minimum cost of a cash-only five figures. For all she wanted, it wouldn't be just the discovery of rare materials to trouble her contacts. There'd be the collection, the upgrades, the additional tech, the labour, delivery & gratuities…
They had been expenses to baulk at, until she remembered the frozen assets that Kif had kept handy. Back then she might've been tempted to kill her tyrant-in-waiting, but she did promise to reduce him to nothing first.
Checking out all those works, apparently proving herself wrong about superhero planets in the process, she called back one mystery seamstress to give her the go-ahead; all her dimensions, muscle sizes and other details.
The world wouldn't save itself, even as the crew worried for her new obsession of late.
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The weekend AND work week's end had turned to dust before long; whether Leela's excitement, Professor's experiments or the crew's return to normalcy, none could say. Even so, when the Captain received word that payments had been catered for, that her delivery was incoming, she couldn't help but pace about and stroke her hair.
Out of nowhere she ordered the ship washed down, caring nothing for crew complaints as she got stuck into her corner gym, desperate to distract herself.
Complaints turned to bemusement, as she rained thumping blows upon leather, clanged and banged her iron.
"What in Nixon's flab-riddled jowls has gotten her worked up?" Bender demanded.
"I don't know dude, it's been the strangest thing. Found some 20th century comic walking about some time ago, and as I was reading it, she asked to borrow it. Thought it'd be another one to discard, but…"
He then trailed off and shrugged, working the windows instead. Just as well; wouldn't believe the answer to come.
It'd take several false alarms before she whispered a code, wrote a secret signature, and got a solid wooden box wheeled through the hangar. One to dwarf and outsize her, to have her yell up that she would perform a ship-wide stocktake.
"Um, Captain? You just did that like an hour ago, and—"
"And what, Fry?"
"Never mind."
All she had to say before disappearing into the cargo hold, her crowbar handy to heave and hoe into that hopeful treasure. A mannequin to her quantum exacts, or so she'd been told, to stand modelled and ready for action.
"Well this is it, new style, new hero, new chapter. God, I sure hope they did right by me."
Such thoughts and more had her in hair pulls as she seized the one-piece bathing suit, fumbled for the near-camouflage zip to hold it together. In perhaps unsure mutters, she stripped off, stepped in, and stretched it around, a fight from arms to chest before the zip met her neck.
The gem-like glimmer had perked her up as she glanced over; reading through the booklet, she found it had boasted loadout-based technology for today's woman on the go. Abilities to 'consume' and replicate up to two dozen different outfits, guaranteeing readiness at a finger-snap's notice, wherever she was and for whatever occasion.
Taking time to stretch, squat, spin and swing her shadow punches, she only grew snugger and snugger… So far a great start, and for whoever chose to check out her window, easy distraction for an easy knock-out.
Next up she reached for the skirt, a mini circle design that reflected on and re-defined those teenage years. Halfway to her kneecaps instead of her feet, to sheer and shine when the lights caught in the pleats. One might've got basic instincts as she strutted about the cabin, feeling her loves of business and fun flow about.
Next came all the accessories; gloves and boots that glinted like her eye and got finished in golden accents. Her gloves like Captain Yesterday's, her boots meant to stomp a justice-sized hole in crime without falling so often.
Her belt a bright red, its centrepiece a gold-backed sapphire 'eye' in its middle. Her tribute to that comic that kicked it all off, before she swung her final piece around her shoulders.
A gold-lined midnight blue cape, to clasp with a golden click around her neck. Another dedication to her rekindled love, one to hover level with her boots. And as she posed about, she let herself bend forward to let it cascade down her shoulders, shining like sapphires all the while.
Her homage to the army through the stylised 'C' on her back, within a diamond, wing-extended shape. And as she untied and massaged her hair, before her fists met her hips, she stood in her mirror, truly ready.
"Criminals might've forgotten the frozen mercy of Clobberella, but they shall cower before my fists flying, my guns blazing… as The Commander."
Could've cracked the Cheshire Cat's jaw once she finished smiling; even fancied a whole bunch of magazine flexes, fight stances and Friday night flights, at least until the frantic calls and knocks on her cabin.
"Hey Captain? Just had a few DOOP packages come in!"
A sudden gasp as she checked the time; somehow she'd been modelling for at least an hour. A rush to read the packaged instructions, as the knocks became loud thumps.
"Hello? You alright in there?"
"I'll be a minute!"
Letting her outfit 'eat' her work uniform, she then flick, flick, flicked through her booklet to whisper "Normal", and return into her stretch gear. No different than how they saw her this morning, only a chuckle and hasty hair-tying might've betrayed her new look to her lover, standing outside her cabin.
"Phew, sorry about that. Just been such a busy couple weeks, I thought I'd relax for a while."
She then ordered her crew to prepare for launch, and moments later, they'd find themselves off on another adventure in the stars.
Course, Fry still had his question when she handed back his comic.
"You, the type to nap? You'd have been bored to death… You sure you're alright?"
"Darling relax!" she laughed, giving a small kiss. "In fact, forget just feeling alright… I'm doing quite wondrous today."
And it'd be those words to leave Fry confused, but thankful, as they returned to bridge ready to fulfil those latest requests from the Democratic Order of Planets.
And that's the end of the story... Thank you so much for reading!