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Chapter 30
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“Is anyone home?” Pixeletta called out as she entered the base.

The lights were on. So either someone was here, or the last person to leave forgot to turn them off.

Part of the way down the entry hallway, she saw something mechanical to her left inside of an alcove barely seen when first walking in. She turned her head to find what looked like a big gun sticking out of the ground. It wasn't aiming for her, so she took it as a sign that the base defenses had at least been installed.

Towards the top of the turret was a focusing camera that only then looked to be turned and focusing its lens while Pixeletta examined it. If she had to, Pixeletta was ready to jump into the base’s computer.

She’d never been in there, now that she was thinking about it.

Then came the sound of metal bits jingling inside of a cardboard box. Pixeletta looked at the far end of the hall to find Mortar Mage turning the corner.

“Oh hey, Pix,” he said.

“Pix?” said Pixeletta.

“What, you don’t like the nickname?”

“I just think it’s a little weird. That’s all. What are you up to? And what’s this thing?”

“This is part of the new security system Walter wanted installed. See, I came here thinking I’d take another crack at the computer’s voice engine, saw the couple of crates for these things, got sidetracked because I just had to tinker with them, came up with ideas for my gadgets, and got sidetracked again.”

“So, you just got done with your new gadgets?”

“I, ah . . . no. Sidetracked again, this time by the security system.”

“There’s no hope for you.”

“There doesn’t need to be. I’ll be done in no time.”

“When did you start on this project?”

Mortar pulled out his phone. “Ten hours ago.” He must have spotted the incredulous look Pixeletta was giving him. “I should start storing spare parts and hardware somewhere in this base. Anyways, Walter had told me before that this system is to help in case any villains decide to pay us a visit. I’m making sure these turrets all shoot to stun, but there’s always a chance they’ll turn lethal, or that they will break down the day after the warranty does. Faulty manufacturers.”

“Just as long as it doesn’t try to kill one of our own,” Pixeletta said.

“It’ll be fine.”

Pixeletta shook her head at him.

“What about you?” Mortar asked as he applied a couple adjustments to the turret. “I thought you were out patrolling today?”

She said, “I was on my way, but I needed to drop by and let someone know that I probably won’t be available tomorrow. I’m going to a game because my father wants to attempt to bond with me.”

Judy nearly turned Patrick down too, but her mother said that it could be a good experience for both of them.

Mortar Mage said, “Oh, a game! Which one?”

“Some basketball game. I’m not a fan, so I don’t follow who the teams are, but it’s at the Reynolds Stadium, if that means anything to you.”

“I’m not a huge fan myself, but I know that one. Are you going to be OK? I know your father doesn’t exactly see you as the young lady you were born to be.”

“It’s not just that. I’m still angry with him, you know? My mother caught him cheating and took me with her to Paragon. I know he’s trying, and I was too young to remember any of it happening, but . . . ugh!”

The lights flickered.

Mortar nodded like some sort of sage, cool and wise. “I think that’s all the more reason to give him a chance.”

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”

“So enjoy yourself. I wish I had someone to be angry at. Enjoy yourself while you can.”

Judy locked her front door, and walked with Patrick to his truck. She had told him he was doing well, but her cramps felt like the truth was going to come screaming from out between her legs any moment.

She chose a casual, neutral top with a pair of pants. However, the jeans she had picked out weren’t fitting quite right, so she went with a looser fitting pair of pants.

While on the road, Patrick said, “So, are you still doing, you know, your thing?”

“What thing is that?” asked Judy.

“The crossdresser thing. Or whatever it is.”

Keep your cool. He still doesn’t know better. He still thinks this is just some stupid phase.

“I’m just living the life of an everyday Paragon City teenager,” Judy said. “And I like it.”

“So you never dream of living anywhere that superpowers and other . . . strange things aren’t commonplace?”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin when thinking about life away from superpowers. And then there are some things here that would probably get a person killed in most places. I think I’m more unnerved by that than anything.”

Patrick grunted. “At least these are good seats.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but your tickets don’t seem to be reading properly on our devices,” said the lady at the gate. “I’m going to have to ask you to move so you don’t block the doorway.”

“Come on,” said Judy, disappointed, “there’s no use getting angry about it here.”

She guided her furious father back through the crowd until he stopped suddenly and turned.

“I really ought to give their manager piece of my mind,” said Patrick. “I’ll even tell off everyone at the top of their company if I have to.”

“Please stop,” said Judy.

“Hey, you! I’d like to talk with your manager.”

Judy was really not in the mood for this. She was quickly hitting a line where she would step in and smack some sense into her father. Her cramps were screaming at her to kill everyone, starting with him, especially him. She stepped forward, ready to let her power surge through her.

But then she saw Warren stop Patrick. They exchanged words that Judy could not hear. Warren’s demeanor was pleasant and unmoving, and Patrick’s was ill-tempered in the beginning and coming down from his high with every turn.

She got closer, and her friend said, “Hello, there.”

“Do you know my son?” asked Patrick.

“I know a lot of people, my good man, but your son? How are young doing this evening, Judy?”

“I’ve been better, thanks,” Judy said.

“Your father was telling me that you were both experiencing some trouble with your tickets. Is that right?”

“That’s right. Wait, why are you here?”

“Media pass. I was just telling your father here that for some games I can bring two guests with me. He’s skeptical, of course, but most of the media is covering other things right now so it will be a skeleton crew down by my seat. Getting you both in wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

“You have a media pass?”

“Yeah, I co-own and edit a magazine. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“When did your magazine cover sports?”

“Ah. That’s a bit complicated. Shall we head inside where I can explain it better?”

The crowds were cheering for both teams and their cheerleaders throughout the stadium. Pixeletta was a superhero, but there were some moves that Judy could not manage like those cheerleaders could.

Patrick had been sipping on a cup of beer when he looked over to Warren. “So, you said you were going to explain these seats to us?”

“I did?” Warren asked. “Oh, right, I did. You see, the magazine that I co-own, write, and edit specializes in the theorized harmony between science and magic.” He skipped past Patrick coughing. “Normally, that covers either term in a plain and simple matter of talking about developments or situations where the two might work for or against one another.”

“And what, there’s some mystical force behind basketball?”

“Not so much. There are, however, a couple of interesting examples here that I’ve chosen to write about, and will be interviewing later. First, there’s the raven haired cheerleader on the home team. She grew up in the Midwest, and was hunted down, physically, under the false pretense of what her town thought to be witchcraft. In that same hunt she lost her left leg in an accident.”

“Nonsense. She’s clearly standing on it tonight,” said Patrick.

“It’s a prosthetic. You can’t tell from this distance. Actually, you probably can’t tell if you bumped into her in a crowd and coped a feel only seconds before her bodyguards returned the kindness to your rectal cavity. Science and technology cloned flesh onto synthetic bone, and magic fused it to her body. Ironically, her hometown paid for the trip and procedure here in Paragon when it was finally discovered that they did not have a witch. So the story goes. I’ll be asking her for any more detail she may wish to add.”

Patrick only took another drink and listened intently.

“Now,” said Warren, “the opposing team has a player, number 17, who does practice classical witchcraft. He uses it as a means to help heal the sick and wounded in the towns he visits. However, he relies on the physical science of his own training and practice to play his favorite game. As such, his name will probably remain anonymous in my article to protect against anyone claiming him to be a cheat when he's anything but. Classical witchcraft, by the way, is a blend of science—ahead of its time in ancient civilizations—and spiritual essence-driven magic. So it will be a treat to hear about the healing he does on the side of his career.”

“Well, I don't know a lot about that, but I do know one thing,” said Patrick, the alcohol starting to show on his tone of voice, “Those girls do know how to move. Jude, if you want to be a girl so much, maybe you should join them.”

Electricity rolled through her arms. What would happen if she tried to choke the man with them surging with power?

She didn’t know if anyone could see her or not.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to use the ladies room.”

Judy got up and tried to let the electric current die down as she walked. She tuned out everything around her as best she could. Along the steps leading up to the way to the restrooms, there was a woman pleading frantically with someone from security, so Judy had to walk around them. In one of Judy’s better moments, she might have stopped to see if she could help, but she wanted to drown the whole world out.

It was only after reaching and sitting inside the restroom stall that Judy realized how stupid she was for coming here alone. Or, for that matter, how stupid she had been for agreeing to spend this time with her father.

But, she did not cry. She could not cry. Judy was too busy holding down her power so that it didn’t explode and take her with it, as much as she wanted these cramps to end. Lights within the restroom flickered while she did her best to get herself under control.

She later walked back to the cordoned area for media. The frantic woman from earlier had gone, as did a few other people around that seat. And, when Judy got back to Warren and Patrick, she saw that Patrick was barely attentive at all.

“I put a spell on him,” Warren explained quietly. “He’ll only remember watching the game until it’s over, and then he’ll come to in time to drive you home. Let me know if there’s a problem then, and I’ll open a portal to your house.”

“Thank you, Warren,” said Judy. “You’re a good friend when you want to be.”

She sat, and tried her best to enjoy the rest of her evening.

Judy hurried to the front door. Patrick trailed behind.

As she unlocked and opened the door, her father said, “Jude, wait.”

“No. Go away.”

“Jude, look . . .”

Zap.

Electric energy coursed through Judy’s fingers, which she held up in the air.

“No,” she said, “you look. When you drove my mother away and didn’t try to even stay in touch or make amends over the years, you gave up the right to judge or raise me. You gave up the right to watch me grow and struggle with how I was. I needed a nice evening to take my mind off of a looming period, but your attitude destroyed any chance of that happening. If you think your opinion of my body or my gender identity matters at all, then you can fuck off!”

She slammed the door in Patrick’s stunned face and stormed past the living room and kitchen.

“Judy!” her mom called. A moment later, as Judy reached the bathroom, Judy heard her mom say, “Hi, Patrick; good night, Patrick,” before the front door was slammed again.

However, it wasn’t enough for Judy. Nothing was. She closed the bathroom door and sat on the toilet without any pants on. The ones she had on earlier needed to be cleaned or incinerated. She had been bleeding since the end of the game.

The pain did not end, either.

Something rubbed against the door. Judy’s mom said, “Judy?”

“I really don’t want to talk right now. Or see anyone.”

Then she saw a piece of paper slip under the door. It had “Peace Offering” written on it, and the paper carried with it two pills and a thin slice of chocolate.

Judy broke down into tears, and, through her sobs, said, “Thanks, Mom.”

“Can I open the door to give you a glass of water for the pain medicine?”

“Yes.”

The door opened only enough for her mom to slip in a hand carrying the glass, which was set upon the ground within Judy’s reach. Her mom closed it again, and Judy could hear her mom sitting against the door.

“I’m right here if you need me, baby girl.”