Whateley Academy, Saturday morning, Dec 22nd 2007

I sat upon my throne and proudly surveyed my subjects, each petitioning for an audience with me so that they could hear my words of wisdom and vie for my favor.

“Ms. Imp,” one of my young subjects said while humbly seeking my attention.

“Yes, Sylver,” I answered as I stood up from the chair behind my desk.

I glanced around my classroom, which only had a handful of students currently present, each of whom was working on their individual projects. Winter vacation had started, but a lot of students hadn’t left the campus yet, and some wouldn’t be leaving at all, so I’d stayed behind long enough to hold a traditional Saturday morning cartoon session and then an open art classroom.

Sylver, or Sylver Stryker which was her full codename, was the one who’d called for my attention. She was a pretty girl with metallic silver hair and a somewhat depressed attitude. Apparently, she’d once been fairly powerful and had even been on the path to becoming a hero until she’d suffered a burnout that wiped out most of her powers… and most of her confidence.

“What do you think?” Sylver asked as she held up a piece of wood that had been carved into the shape of a wolf. She was still clutching a piece of sandpaper in her other hand.

“Very nice,” I said as I looked over the piece she’d been working on. Wood carving had never been my thing, but I could appreciate the time and effort that she’d put into carving this. “Maybe just a little more sanding right here… Then again, if you left it a little on the rough side, you could use the texture to represent the fur…”

Syler nodded at my suggestion. “I think I’ll sand it a little more since I want it to be smooth.” She gave me a self-conscious smile. “I made it for my dad’s Christmas present, and I really want him to like it.”

“I’m sure he’ll love it,” I assured her.

“Better than an ashtray,” Sylver responded in a wry tone, her eyes darting over to one boy who was trying to make a fast last minute Christmas present for one of his parents.

“A lot better,” I agreed. “But don’t tell Doorstop I said so.”

The girl smiled, looking pleased with her project as she began to clean up her workspace. I watched her for a bit, then began to wander around my kingdom to see which of my other subjects could use a bit of my wisdom.

“Ah yes,” I mused to myself, my tail swishing back and forth. “It’s good to be the Impress.”

--------------------

Rochester NY, Saturday early afternoon, Dec 22nd 2007

“Home,” Chris Matthews said as he stood in the driveway of his house.

The flight from New Hampshire hadn’t taken very long, and he’d actually spent a lot more time in the airports than he had on the plane. Still, it was nice to finally arrive back home.

Chris looked around, then paused as he saw his neighbor’s house and the damage that was still in the process of being repaired. There was a large patch of missing shingles, which had been covered with a blue tarp that had been blown aside.

“What happened to Mr. Sheffield’s house?” Chris asked.

“Oh,” Chris’ dad answered with a chuckle. “Lightning.”

“Again?” Chris asked in surprise. “That’s like…the third time he’s been struck by lightning.”

“His house has been hit twice,” Chris’ mom corrected. “He’s only been hit once.”

Chris shook his head at that. Mr. Sheffield was a nice guy, but he had the weirdest luck. Between getting hit with lightning several times, he’d also won the lottery twice and once he’d even had a piece of airplane fall out of the sky and land on top of his car.

“If I didn’t know better,” Chris thought aloud, “I’d think he was a mangler…”

Then Chris paused, wondering if he really did know better. Mr. Sheffield had weird luck…both good and bad…and so did the people around him. That was the same kind of thing that happened around his classmate, Jinx. If Mr. Sheffield was a mangler, he might not even realize it. After all, probability mangling wasn’t the most obvious power and there were always other explanations for weird coincidences.

“Let’s get your stuff inside,” Chris’ dad announced as he opened the trunk of the car and pulled out Chris’ bags. “Then you can tell us all about that school of yours.”

“Sure thing,” Chris responded, quickly grabbing his own bags so that his dad wouldn’t have to carry them. “You wouldn’t believe how weird that place is.”

--------------------

Manhattan NY, Sunday afternoon, Dec 23rd 2007

There were two days until Christmas, and I was out doing a little last-minute shopping. The idea seemed almost ridiculous. Me… Christmas shopping. It had been so long since I’d had anyone to shop for that the whole experience was completely novel.

“I’m as giddy as a schoolgirl,” I said aloud as I looked at the shops around me.

Of course, I was in disguise, and in my Christine Kade disguise at that. This kind of excursion demanded more than just a large coat, floppy hat, and sunglasses. This demanded that I look normal enough to actually interact with normal people without freaking them out.

I hummed Christmas songs to myself as I practically skipped down the sidewalk, trying to think about what else I could get for Ryan and Melissa. It had been so long since I’d bought a Christmas present for someone else that I might have been going overboard just a little bit.

“And Suzie Q,” I reminded myself. Or Susan Matthews as she was now known, but to me, she’d always be Suzie Q. Now that I’d reconnected with my old friend, I needed to get her something too. “Maybe a whoopie cushion…to remind her of old times.”

Just then, I heard a window shattering a short distance away, followed by someone shouting, “NOBODY MOVE!”

Being the curious Imp that I was, I quickly moved closer to see what was going on. A few seconds later, I had a good view of the scene where someone seemed to be in the process of robbing a jewelry store by breaking in the front window and snatching up the display. What really caught my attention though, wasn’t the crime being committed but the person who was doing it.

I had absolutely no idea if the thief was a mutant, an animan, or something else entirely. What I did know, and could tell with a single glance, was that he was definitely not any kind of normal human. He looked like a giant, 6-foot-tall, anthropomorphic rooster with reddish brown feathers. The black domino mask he wore was pretty silly since it didn’t do a single thing to hide his identity, but the glowing red eyes all over his body were really creepy looking.

“What the…?” I blurted out.

“MY NAME IS FUSTER CLUCK,” the giant chicken announced, looking around at the gathered people who were all staring at him in disbelief. “AND NOBODY HAD BETTER GET IN MY WAY.”

“Fuster Cluck?” I gasped, about to burst into laughter. Even I couldn’t give him a better nickname than that, though of course, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try.

A broad grin spread across my face while my tail swished back and forth in eager anticipation. I didn’t give a damn about this guy’s robbery, though I was burning up with a question that just DEMANDED to be asked. However, I couldn’t do it as is. A question this important required the Imp, not Christine Kade. So with that, I stepped into a nearby alley and took off my jacket while deactivating the magic pendant that hid my real appearance. I didn’t have my costume with me, so this would have to do.

“HEY, Chicken Boo,” I called out a few seconds later as I stepped into his view. I paused long enough to let him get a good look at me.

Fuster Cluck stared at me with his own look of surprise, which looked absolutely hilarious on his chicken face. “Who…?”

“I just HAVE to know,” I asked with a broad grin. “Why DID you cross the road?”

“What the cluck?” the rooster exclaimed, giving me an angry glare. “Do you think you can stop me? Nobody cock blocks Fuster Cluck.”

“Look here, Foghorn,” I started. “I don’t care about your little snatch and grab. I just wanted to…”

Suddenly, one of the eyes on Fuster Cluck’s chest began to glow more brightly, right before it fired out a beam of energy. I dove to the side and avoided being hit, though the attack caused several people nearby to scream before nearly everyone finally ran away.

“About time,” I muttered with a roll of my eyes.

I stood up and made a show of casually brushing off my clothes, wishing as I did so that I had my uniform. This kind of encounter really did call for the proper attire, and as nice as they looked, slacks and a blouse just didn’t cut it.

“Now, as I was about to say, Foghorn,” I started, only to pause as an idea suddenly came to mind. I began to grin evilly, then a giggle escaped. “Now, THAT is a great idea…”

Fuster Cluck fired another beam of energy at me, but I saw it coming and was able to dodge. While I was doing that, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, hitting a number on speed dial as I did so.

“Hey, Chickenhawk,” I told Ryan when he picked up. “I just ran into a supervillain who you just HAVE to fight. He’s called Fuster Cluck…and no, I did not give him that name. I think he actually gave it to himself. Anyway, he’s robbing a jewelry store and shooting up the town, so you’d better get here to stop him and FAST.” After that, I quickly gave Ryan the address and hung up.

“Now,” I mused, turning my attention back to the giant chicken. “How do I keep you here long enough for Chickenhawk to arrive?”

I was a woman of many talents, but one that I particularly excelled at was being able to get someone’s attention and keep them distracted. Now, it was time to put that talent to use.

"Come on, sing it," I called out excitedly. "Come on, we'll do a sing along... Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly what a day..."

“Will you shut the cluck up?” Fuster Cluck shouted at me, firing another beam from an eye on his shoulder.

“Wow, Foghorn” I mocked him. “You have enough eyes to be a potato. Are you part potato?”

“SHUT UP,” he snarled, attacking me again.

“If you are part potato,” I continued cheerfully, “that would make you doubly edible, wouldn’t it?” Then as if in sudden realization, I paused long enough to gasp, “That must be why you crossed the road. You were trying to get away from the Colonel.”

Fuster Cluck snarled at me and spat out, “You’re an annoying hero…”

“I am NOT a hero,” I protested, offended by the accusation.

“Then why are you trying to stop me?” he demanded.

“I’m not trying to stop you,” I pointed out. “I’m trying to MOCK you…and I have to say, I’m doing a good job of it too.”

Foghorn paused and stared at me in confusion. “You’re actually serious…”

“Not if I can help it,” I joked. “Being serious is nasty stuff…” I made a show of shuddering in disgust. “Mocking and heckling is more my thing… In fact, if you give me a good balcony box, I’d be happy just sitting up there and heckling people for the entire show.”

“Who are you?” the chicken demanded.

I grinned at that, always happy for a good chance for a dramatic introduction. “I am the beautiful, talented, and fabulous Imp.” I gave a sweeping bow and added, “Art thief and supervillain extraordinaire. Retired.”

Fuster Cluck stared at me for several seconds before shaking his head. “Whoever you are, I’m going to cluck you up.”

“You’re welcome to try,” I responded, gesturing for Foghorn to attack me. “Come and get me. Or, are you chicken?”

The rooster came running at me, throwing a punch which I easily avoided. Clearly, he wasn’t a brawler. Of course, neither was I, which was why I slipped back and out of his reach rather than taking advantage of the opportunity to hit him back.

“Ah say. Ah say boy,” I said in my best Foghorn Leghorn voice. “You’re thicker than a volume of the government tax code.”

“No one mocks Fuster Cluck,” He snarled as he charged at me again. “NO ONE.”

But just then, I saw movement from above and glanced up, only to see a familiar figure. Rapidly descending towards us was a man in a dark blue costume with white trim, which included a dark blue cowl that covered his head. As he grew closer, I could make out the logo on his chest, the symbol of a bird with its wings spread out.

“CHICKENHAWK,” I called out, grinning at the sight of my boyfriend and one-time archenemy. Then to myself, I muttered, “About time.”
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could have kept Fuster Cluck distracted without either running away or committing to a real fight.

“You must be the Fuster Cluck, I heard about,“ Ryan announced as he stared down at Foghorn. “Please tell me that you didn’t give that name to yourself, because it sounds like something that Imp would name you.”

“Another one,” Fuster Cluck snarled, glaring up at Ryan.

One of Foghorn’s eyes began to glow brighter, one on his thigh. A beam of energy shot out, but Chickenhawk was far enough away that it didn’t take much for him to dodge it.

“Go get that chicken,” I called out with a broad grin while backing away. I’d done my job by keeping Foghorn distracted, so now it was up to Chickenhawk. This was what I’d been waiting for. “All I need now is a bowl of popcorn.”

Chickenhawk formed a glowing ball in his hand, one of his signature gravity spheres. One hit was enough to completely mess with someone’s personal gravity, which could be annoying at best and devastating at worst. I was quite familiar with the effect since I’d been hit with those things before.

But before Ryan could actually attack Fuster Cluck, the rooster turned and began to run. Ryan fired the gravity sphere at the runaway chicken, hitting him before he could cross the road again. Suddenly, Fuster Cluck was flung to the side where he slammed into a wall.

“Ouch,” I said with a sympathetic wince. “Come on, Foghorn. Don’t give up that easily.”

“Don’t tell me that you called me here just to…,” Chickenhawk said as he landed beside me. He looked at me and let out a long sigh. “Of course you did. There is no way that you’d be able to resist seeing Chickenhawk go up against a giant chicken.”

“You know me so well,” I responded with a grin. If I’d been a dog, my tail would have been wagging back and forth. Well, I wasn’t a dog, so my tail was elegantly swishing back and forth instead.

Fuster Cluck was already back on his feet, looking dazed from the impact but not out. All of his eyes began to glow at once, and suddenly, each of them fired out a beam of energy, going in every direction at once.

I wasn’t sure if I’d actually been hit, but in an instant, everything changed. The sky was pink. The building beside me was made of melting ice cream. The air itself smelled green. It was like I’d just taken a strong dose of devisor LSD and was on a serious acid trip.

Just a couple weeks ago, I’d been near that green fairy girl, Absinthe, when one of her little fairy escorts had accidentally been popped. When that happened, I’d hallucinated pretty badly for a couple minutes, and this was just like that.

My surroundings became even crazier and more surreal until I couldn’t even tell which direction was up anymore. Then, it abruptly wore off with reality snapping back into place.

“Now THAT was weird,” I said with a shake of my head.

“You can say that again,” Chickenhawk said from beside me before he quickly added, “But don’t.”

I looked around but didn’t see any signs of the oversized chicken, which immediately filled me with disappointment. Even though I didn’t care about his little robbery or about his getting away, I was annoyed by the fact that the encounter had been cut so short.

“Darn, he got away,” I said with a sigh and perhaps even a little bit of a pout. “And I never even got to use the joke about Fozziwig’s Rubber Chicken Factory.”

“You can do that next time we run into him,” Ryan assured me before shifting into his best Chickenhawk impression and saying, “We’ll get that chicken the next time.”

I burst out laughing at that. This was the best day ever.

--------------------

Rochester NY, Monday evening, Dec 24th 2007

“Leave your cousin alone,” Uncle Dave warned.

Chris looked at his uncle in surprise, then at his cousin Ron, who had just been mocking and insulting him. Ever since Chris had manifested as a mutant, a lot of his relatives had been treating him differently, giving him odd looks and worse.

“He’s not even a REAL cousin,” Ron protested, giving Chris a look of disgust. Then he snorted and stomped away, muttering, “Whatever.”

“That boy just can’t help but make a scene,” Aunt Rose said from a short distance away, giving Chris a flat look to let him know who she was referring to. “So dramatic all the time.”

Chris bit his tongue to keep from responding. “It’s the Christmas party,” he quietly reminded himself. Christmas eve was the day when the entire family always got together to have a big dinner and celebrate the holidays. He wasn’t going to be the one to ruin it for everyone else, even if everyone else seemed determined to ruin it for him.

For most of Chris’ life, his cousins had teased him about not being a ‘real Matthews’, and that had only grown worse since he’d manifested as a mutant. Ever since then, the teasing had become a bit more hostile, often turning into outright bullying. And in spite of their mixed jealousy and concern, they were still confident that he’d never actually use his powers against them.

“Are you okay?” Chris’ mom asked as she came up. She ran a hand through her blonde hair before glaring back at Aunt Rose. “As much as I love your father, I’m not exactly thrilled with some of my in-laws.”

“I’m fine,” Chris told her. He wasn’t going to be the one who made a scene and ruined things for his parents.

The rest of the party was relatively quiet, though Ron and one of Chris’ other cousins did keep giving him dirty looks. He was thankful when things wound down and everyone else went home. Only then did Chris let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” Chris’ dad told him. “I had a word with Dave about Ron, but…”

“But nobody listens,” Chris’ mom added with a shake of her head.

“Ron told me that nobody wanted me here at the party,” Chris finally admitted. He’d meant to keep that to himself so as not to worry his parents, but the words just popped out.

“Well, we certainly wanted you there,” his mom assured him, momentarily glaring at the door. In a quieter tone, she admitted, “Some of the others, I could do without though.”

Chris gave a weak chuckle at that. “It’s just…” He shook his head, fighting the tears that were starting to emerge. Thise had just been words, but they were words that hit him where it hurt. “My birth mom didn’t want me either…”

His mom threw her arms around him in a comforting hug, quietly saying, “She did… She wanted you very much, and she had a good reason to give you up. I know she’s regretted it ever since.”

“You’re just making that up,” Chris told her with a pained chuckle. “For all we know, she…”

“No,” Chris’ mom told him, pulling back and staring at him with a strange expression. “I know…because she told me.”

“What?” Chris asked in confusion.

His mom gave him a nervous smile. “I… I met with your birth mother a couple weeks ago…”

Chris’ eyes went wide at that. Was she teasing him? No, his mom wasn’t the kind of person to make that kind of a joke. Maybe she was just making something up to make him feel better. However, she looked way too serious for that…and way too nervous.

“You…you met my birth mother?” he asked awkwardly.

His mom nodded. “It turns out that she’s someone I used to know a long time ago.”

“That’s a big coincidence,” Chris responded, still feeling skeptical.

“It’s not a coincidence,” his mom assured him with a chuckle. “It turns out, she knew that I was looking to adopt…so she arranged for me to be the one to get you. Your birth mother picked me to be your mom.”

“What?” Chris gasped, staring at his mom in stunned disbelief. His heart was racing in his chest. “Who… Who is she? What’s her name? Can I meet her?”

Chris paused, suddenly realizing that he must sound like Melissa with the way he was just blurting things out without giving his mom a chance to answer. But this was important. He’d never thought that he’d ever have a chance to meet his birth mother and ask why she gave him up.

His mom looked down, not meeting his eyes. Then, she finally said, “I’m sorry, but she asked me not to tell you who she was…” He gasped at that and his mom continued, “She… She’s not ready to meet you yet. She’s interested in you and wants to know how you’re doing but… I think she’s afraid that you’ll reject her.”

“Like she rejected me,” he spat out bitterly.

Chris found himself embraced in another hug. “She didn’t reject you,” his mom insisted. “She didn’t throw you away. She did the best thing she could for you…and it broke her heart.”

“But,” Chris started to protest, no longer fighting back the tears in his eyes.

“I’ll work on her,” his mom told him with a gentle smile. “The next time I talk with her, I’ll try to convince her to reveal herself.”

Chris nodded at that and wiped the tears from his eyes. His birth mother wasn’t ready to meet with him, but she was willing to talk to his mom. That was something, and it was more than he’d had before. And maybe, maybe one day soon, he could ask her why she gave him away.

“Enough with the serious talk,” Chris’ dad announced from the other side of the room. “It’s Christmas eve… We need to get the milk and cookies out for Santa.”

“Really?” Chris asked his dad. “I think I’m a little old to believe in Santa.”

“What?” his dad asked with a bit of a smirk. “You don’t believe someone can have amazing powers?” Chris paused at that and his dad continues, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Santa is some kind of avatar who hosts the spirit of Christmas or something.”

Chris stared at his dad, his mouth dropping open. Ever since Chris had manifested, his dad had been doing a bit of research on mutants and the different types of powers, and it showed.

“That…,” Chris started slowly, considering what his dad had just told him and all of the strange and unbelievable things that he’d seen at Whateley. After a few seconds, he grudgingly admitted, “I’ve heard of weirder things happening.”

With that, Chris went to the kitchen to get the cookies for Santa while his dad stood back with a triumphant smirk.

--------------------

Manhattan NY, Tuesday morning, Dec 25th 2007

“Coal,” I exclaimed as I pulled the black lump out of the box it had come in.

It was Christmas morning at the Chambers house and I had been invited to spend the morning with them. I was looking forward to spending a little time with Ryan and Melissa, though this also meant that I also had to deal with Ryan’s sister Brandy, whom I wasn’t quite as fond of.

After a French toast breakfast, prepared by Brandy and earning a few more points in her favor as a result, it was time for presents. Melissa had immediately pulled one present out from under the tree and handed it to me, insisting that I get the ‘honor’ of opening the first present.

It was a small box, about five inches on each side and wrapped in festive green and red paper. There was even a fancy bow on top, along with a label that read ‘TO IMP, FROM SANTA’. And of course, when I opened the present, I found a nice lump of coal.

“It’s just what I always wanted,” I gushed, enjoying the look of surprise on Melissa’s face since she obviously hadn’t expected this reaction. “After all those years and years working my way up Santa’s naughty list, I knew that one day, I’d finally earn this… And it was all worth it.”

With that, I leapt to my feet and made a show of admiring the lump of coal, knowing that every eye in the room was locked on me. And since I had their attention, I held the coal up so that they could all see it as I began my acceptance speech.

“I would like to thank Santa for this greatest of honors,” I announced, swishing my tail back and forth behind me. “And I would like to thank the little people…the elves…who made this possible…”

At this point, Melissa was rolling on the floor laughing while Ryan was trying hard not to laugh and failing. He finally burst out laughing as well. Brandy stared at me as if I was insane, then glanced at her brother and niece, seeing how much fun they were having. Only then did she begin to chuckle as well.

Once I was finished with my antics, I sat back down and proudly announced, “This is going to get a place of honor on my shelf.”

“I’m sure you earned it,” Ryan told me while Melissa continued to giggle.

I carefully set the lump of coal back into the box it came in, grinning as I did so. Sure, it had been given as a gag gift, something that I could readily appreciate, but I really was grateful for the present anyway, and not just because of the laughs. This was the first Christmas present that I’d been given in over a decade.

“I suppose someone should hand out the rest of the presents,” Brandy said as she moved over to the tree and crouched down. “I guess you can call me Brandy Clause.”

“What did I get?” Melissa asked excitedly.

“Let’s see,” Brandy mused as she looked over the pile of gifts. “This one is for you…”

Melissa got the present and tore it open, only to pause as she pulled out a single pair of white socks. She looked confused until I began snickering, then she immediately knew who’d given her the socks.

“Everyone needs socks,” I explained, trying to keep a straight face. “These are devisor socks, guaranteed to prevent athlete’s foot and foot odor.”

“Really?” Melissa asked with a disappointed look on her face.

“Nope,” I responded with a grin. “They’re just ordinary socks. I just wanted to see the look on your face.”

Melissa glared at me and then stuck out her tongue. “That’s not funny.”

“Actually,” her dad responded with a chuckle. “It kind of was.”

“Socks should NEVER be Christmas presents,” Melissa insisted. “They’re a total waste of Christmas present space.”

“And lumps of coal should be given?” Brandy asked with a smirk of her own.

“That’s different,” Melissa responded with a pout.

“It always is,” Brandy said before handing Melissa another present.

Melissa saw that this present was also from me, so she gave me a suspicious look before tearing it open. A few seconds later, she held up a pair of goggles. Not swimming goggles, but larger ones with round lenses.

“Goggles?” Melissa asked curiously.

“Devisor goggles,” I told her, only to get a blank look in return. “Night vision,” I explained. “Along with some other things, like letting you see through some illusions and invisibility type tricks.”

“Really?” Melissa gasped, giving me a suspicious look.

“Really,” I assured her. “And these will even double as a mask when you’re in the arena.”

“YES,” Melissa exclaimed as she began dancing around. “I’ve got you now, Geist.”

Brandy stared at the goggles with an envious expression before asking me, “Where did you get something like that?”

“This place up north,” I responded with a smirk. “What was it called…? Oh yeah, the Santa Clause and his Old Lady Commune.”

“Now I know you’re messing with me,” Brandy said with an exasperated sigh.

“Actually,” I told her with a chuckle. “I got it from a guy I know. Sort of a grey hat type who will sell to both sides.”

Melissa jumped to her feet and put the goggles on, then looked around the room through the lenses. She hadn’t figured out how to activate the special vision yet, but she was still excited anyway.

“THANK YOU,” Melissa exclaimed as she threw herself at me and grabbed me in a hug. “Thank you so much…”

Brandy gave me a look of annoyance, suggesting that I may have just made her present look cheap in comparison. However, the present that she’d given Melissa for her last birthday had been a custom made jacket that Melissa was rarely without, so she clearly knew what the girl liked. I wasn’t going to count on my victory in the present giving game quite yet.

Then Brandy gave Melissa her present, a pair of red gloves. “These ones have a better battery than the last pair,” Brandy explained.

Melissa’s eyes went wide. “New zappy gloves,” she exclaimed as she jumped back to her feet in excitement. “I’ve been wanting a new pair of zappy gloves ever since my last pair burned out.”

“Built in joy buzzers,” I commented, not missing the smug look that Brandy gave me. “Touche.”

About this time, I decided that it was time to give Ryan my present. The shape of the package would have made it easy to guess what I was giving him, so I put some Styrofoam noodles under the wrapping paper in order to distort the shape and make it more difficult to tell.

“Thank you,” Ryan told me, giving the package a curious look as he began to open it.

I sat there silently, biting my lip as I waited for his reaction. A few seconds later, the styrofoam noodles fell to the floor along with the wrapping paper and ribbon, revealing a nicely framed painting of a cityscape.

Ryan stared at the painting in silence, carefully taking in every detail. I was about to burst from nervous anticipation. After all, I’d spent a lot of time and care to paint it.

“A painting,” Brandy commented before giving me a curious look. “Where did you steal this from?” She was only half joking.

“She didn’t steal this,” Ryan answered for me, a bit of a catch in his voice. “She didn’t buy it either. She painted it…”

“Let me see,” Melissa insisted as she moved closer for a better look.

At first glance, it simply looked like a painting of a cityscape, but closer examination would reveal the details, details that most people would never really notice, or at least, never understand.

The building in the very center of the painting, which first drew the eye, was the museum where I’d first met Ryan, or at least, where I’d first met him as Chickenhawk. I was there to pull a job and he’d shown up to stop me. It had been our first encounter and the start of our complicated relationship.

In the shadow of this building were the silhouettes of the two of us, locked in battle. They were subtle, carefully hidden so that you had to really look to see them. And even then, most people wouldn’t know what they represented.

Another building showed where Ryan and I first met, with him as Ryan. It had been at an art show at a nice gallery. Each of these buildings in the painting were familiar, a place where we’d fought, where we’d gone for a date, or which had some meaning to the two of us.

And all around the city, hidden in the shadows and shapes, there were more images of the two of us. The one that I was most proud of, was the larger image hidden in the shading of two buildings, which if looked at just right, revealed us in a passionate embrace.

“This is amazing,” Ryan said, indicating a billboard which had a clear image of a very familiar looking cartoon bird. He chuckled at that, then sort of traced the images of us kissing. “It’s beautiful…”

“I’m glad you liked it,” I told him.

Ryan carefully set the painting down, then turned back to me. “I love it,” he told me. “Thank you.” Then he grabbed me and a moment later, the two of us were locked in an embrace that matched the one I’d painted.

“That’s quite the reaction,” Brandy mused as she looked over the painting with a confused expression.

“Now, for your present,” Ryan told me.

He went beneath the tree and pulled out two small boxes, handing me one while keeping hold of the other. I opened the package and found a jewelry box, and inside that, I found a gold metal card that was about the size of a standard business card.

At first, I was confused, but then I looked closer at the card and immediately began to laugh. On the face of the metal card, were the very recognizable words and images from a ‘GET OUT OF JAIL FREE’ card.

“This seems like a good match for the present you gave me,” Ryan told me with an amused look.

“Oh, definitely,” I agreed, grinning at the memory.

During one of our encounters as opponents, Ryan as Chickenhawk, managed to corner me. I responded by pulling out a card, straight from a Monopoly set and handing it to him. Of course, that hadn’t worked, but it had distracted him enough that I was able to escape.

“I can’t wait until I can use this,” I announced with a grin. “I love it.”

“And then, there is this one,” Ryan told me as he gave me the second present.

The second present was just a little larger than the first, though not by much. I saw Ryan’s look of anticipation while Melissa watched with a grin. Those reactions told me that this had to be an interesting present. When I opened it up, I found another jewelry box, but bigger than the last one. And inside of that, there was a necklace.

“It’s beautiful,” I said with a gasp.

There was a gorgeous pendant with a glossy black metal that matched my horns and scales, with a bright red ruby right in the middle. The whole thing hung from a fine chain that was made from the same black metal.

“My colors,” I announced as I carefully put on the necklace. Ryan helped with that clasp in the back. “How do I look?”

“It looks awesome,” Melissa told me. Ryan just stared at me with an appreciative look.

I just looked down at the pendant, smiling as I did so. It was quite a beautiful piece, and obviously one that had been picked out to match my own coloring. Being given jewelry by someone I cared for was quite a novelty for me, and one that I could easily get used to. In fact, I even had to wipe the tears from my eyes before I kissed Ryan in thanks.

“Now, we’ll have to go out sometime soon so I can show this off,” I told him.

After this, a few more presents were handed out, though most of the big ones had already been given. I’d bought a couple more small gifts for Ryan and Melissa, but those were mostly small items that were little more than glorified stocking stuffers.

Just a little later, once all the presents had been given out, Melissa suggested putting on a Christmas movie.

“But which one,” Brandy asked. “There are plenty of good choices…”

“I vote for Nightmare Before Christmas,” I suggested. “Or Muppets Christmas Carol…both classics.” Then almost as an afterthought, I added, “Or maybe even Angels with Filthy Souls.” That one earned me a blank look in response.

I might have suggested the Grinch, with Jim Carrey as well, as that was a good Christmas movie with lots of fun hijinks. However, there were a few elements of that story which hit just a little too close to home.

And thinking of notorious Christmas haters, I absently wondered what Krampus was up to. He was a supervillain over in Europe, who was known for only pulling one big job a year, while spending the rest of the year planning it. His jobs were always impressive.

Then my thoughts drifted to Fuster Cluck, and I felt just a little guilty for mocking him as hard as I had. If anyone knew what it was like to deal with GSD and the insults that came with that, it was me. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a jerk about it all…or if he hadn’t named himself THAT. After a few seconds, I decided that if I ran into him at the Black Mask, I’d buy him a drink as an apology.

While Melissa put on the movie, I climbed onto the couch and cuddled up next to Ryan, feeling quite comfortable where I was. Then, with a contented smile, I said, “God bless us, everyone.”

--------------------

Rochester NY, Thursday afternoon, Dec 27th 2007

Chris sat on the hard and uncomfortable bench that was just inside the entrance of the store. He’d been sitting there for far too long, long enough that his butt was starting to go numb.

“Your mom should be done soon,” his dad said from beside him, just like he’d been saying every five minutes for at least half an hour.
“Sure,” Chris agreed without any confidence.

Chris’ family had gone out for lunch at a favorite diner, and afterwards, his mom had insisted that she needed to run into the store for ‘a few minutes’. Her quick errand of ‘a few minutes’ had stretched into an hour and then some.

“Just a few more minutes,” Chris’ dad said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than he was Chris. But after a couple seconds, he chuckled. “Who am I kidding. Knowing your mother, we could be here for another hour.”

“Maybe we should wait in the car,” Chris suggested. “Comfortable seats and a radio.”

“Not a bad idea,” his dad agreed with a thoughtful expression. “Not a bad idea at all.” But in spite of that, he made no move to get up.

Chris shook his head, then glanced at his watch, smiling faintly as he did so. He wasn’t used to wearing a watch or having something wrapped around his wrist like that, but he enjoyed having it. It was a nice watch, something that he was proud to show off.

The watch had been a Christmas present, though Chris wasn’t sure who’d actually given it to him. All he knew was that it had arrived in the mail, labeled, ‘To Chris, from Santa’. The same box had included a present for his mom, a DVD collection of some old TV show called ‘Laugh In’, which had immediately made his mom burst into laughter.

“That is so her,” Chris’ mom had said when she saw her DVDs, but she hadn’t explained what she meant.

“One hour and fifteen minutes,” Chris told his dad, using this as an opportunity to show off his new watch.

“Maybe we should head back out to the car,” his dad responded with a chuckle, only to pause and look towards one of the registers. “Or wait just another couple minutes, because Susan is finally about done.”

Chris let out a sigh of relief as he stood up and stretched. He could only imagine how much worse that bench was for his dad, who was old and didn’t have the benefit of mutant powers.

“Sorry I took so long,” Chris’ mom said when she finally rejoined them. She held up her shopping bags and added, “And I only came in for one thing.”

A few minutes later, they climbed into the car and began the drive home. Chris settled into the back seat, wishing that he’d had a bit more time to stretch his legs before sitting again, but at least the car seat was a lot more comfortable than that bench had been.

Then Chris suddenly noticed something from the corner of his eye. He snapped around and looked out the window, only to see a car barreling through the intersection without stopping, coming right towards them.

“LOOK OUT!” Chris cried a moment before the impact.

--------------------

Manhattan NY, Thursday evening, Dec 27th 2007

I was settled comfortably into the couch with a good movie on the TV, a bowl of popcorn in my lap, and my boyfriend’s arm wrapped around my shoulder. I smiled contentedly, absently swishing the tip of my tail back and forth beside me.

“You know,” I told Ryan with a grin. “I do love a good heist flick.”

Ryan chuckled beside me. “Looking for new ideas, are you?”

“Always,” I agreed. “Besides, I’m teaching a winter term class on heists, and a little extra inspiration can’t hurt.”

“I’m signed up for it,” Melissa offered from where she sat on the floor with her own bowl of popcorn. “I can’t wait to do a heist.”

Ryan hesitated for a moment, looking like he was caught between amusement and concern. After all, as one of the ‘good guys’, he was usually on the opposite side of the heist and I knew that he definitely didn’t want his daughter doing that kind of thing.

I was tempted to tease Ryan a bit, but instead, I reassured him. “It’s mostly theory…the kind of things that security can use to prevent a heist and that law enforcement can use to investigate one afterwards.” I gave him a wry smile. “After all, Whateley teaches both sides, so I need to keep the class suitable for a variety of students, not just the ones wanting a criminal career.”

What I didn’t tell Ryan was that we were going to use the arena so the students would be able to plan and execute a heist of their own. I was really looking forward to setting that up, and as I’d said, a good heist flick was inspiring me with new ideas for how to do that.

Just then, my phone rang. I recognized the number as belonging to Elizabeth Carson and immediately answered with a cautious, “Hello.”

“Hello, Christine,” Carson said, her tone even more serious than usual. I sat up straight, realizing that this wasn’t going to just be a friendly chat. “Theres a situation with one of your students, and I thought you needed to know about it immediately.”

My eyes immediately went to Melissa, the student who was most likely to get into a ‘situation’, or at least, the one whose mischief I was likely to be called about.

“It’s Chris Matthews,” Carson told me.

I immediately tensed up upon hearing that name. Carson knew of my interest in Chris and why, which was clearly why she’d called me. Then as she explained what was going on, I gasped, “No,” and dropped the phone.

Rochester NY, Saturday afternoon, Dec 29th 2007

Chris sat in cold silence, his entire being numb with shock. Over the past two days, he’d lost absolutely everything, and it was all because of one drunk driver… because some idiot had gotten behind the wheel of his car after having too much to drink.

Images of the car crash flashed through Chris’ mind, just as they had countless times since the accident. It had been so fast…so sudden. One moment everything had been fine, and the next… In the next moment, his life had been destroyed.

His parents had both died on impact while his mutant powers had protected him from the worst of it. When he’d been pried out of the wreckage, Chris only had a couple of broken bones and some lacerations, but those had all healed up within a couple hours, leaving him without a single physical scar. However, the wounds through the rest of his being were still fresh and bleeding.

After the accident, things had continued to worsen in a way that Chris never would have expected. With his parents having just died, there was the question of what would happen to him. However, every one of his relatives, his aunts, uncles, and grandparents, had all said that they couldn’t take him in. What they really meant was that they wouldn’t.

Chris had no doubts as to why his relatives had turned their backs on him when he’d needed them most. Maybe, if he’d just been adopted…or had just been a mutant, they still might have accepted him, but with his being both… That was just too much for them to accept.

Now, Chris was sitting in the front office of the local Child Protective Service, waiting for something, though he wasn’t quite sure what. And at that moment, he was too numb to really care.

Mrs. Keller, the CPS agent who was in charge of him, sat behind her desk a short distance away. She was a middle-aged woman with a sour expression, who kept giving him looks of distaste.

“Someone will be here to pick you up, shortly,” Mrs. Keller told Chris, looking just a little too satisfied for his comfort.

Chris merely nodded at that, not knowing who was going to pick him up and not caring enough to ask. He assumed it was probably some other CPS official, taking him off to some orphanage or foster home.

“It’s no wonder your relatives didn’t want you,” Mrs. Keller abruptly mused. “Who in their right mind would want a dangerous mutant around their kids?”

Chris winced at that. “Not relatives,” he muttered, reminding himself just as much as he was telling her. “I was adopted, so they were never really my relatives.”

He scowled, remembering the way a couple of his ‘cousins’ used to tease him about being adopted. Now, he wondered if they might have gotten that attitude from their parents. Considering how quickly the adults had abandoned him, that would make sense.

“At least the MCO will take you off my hands soon enough,” Mrs. Keller said.

“The MCO?” Chris asked, suddenly sitting up and becoming more alert.

Mrs. Keller gave him a smug look and practically sneered. “Of course, the MCO. They’re the ones responsible for looking after mutant children. We certainly can’t put you anywhere near normal children.”

“But…,” Chris started to protest.

“You are a dangerous mutant freak,” Mrs. Keller continued her building rant, completely ignoring Chris’ growing concern. Instead, his distress only seemed to fuel her even more. “It would be irresponsible to let one of your kind anywhere near real people… No one wants your kind around.” Then she gave him an even more malicious look as she rubbed it in more and pointedly told him, “No one wants YOU.”

Those words struck Chris like a physical blow as they struck the heart of his long-standing insecurities, which had only been reinforced by the recent events.

“WRONG,” a new voice suddenly announced. “I want him.”

Chris quickly looked to the door, where a woman had just entered. She wore a professional looking outfit with black slacks and a jacket, and her long hair was a shade of brown so dark that it nearly looked black.

There was something about this woman that seemed familiar, though Chris had no idea where he might possibly know her from. He didn’t think he knew her.

“Who are YOU?” Mrs. Keller demanded, glaring at this woman who’d just interrupted her rant.

The mysterious woman straightened up and fixed Mrs. Keller with a flat look. “My name is Christine Kade,” she stated firmly. “And I am his birth mother.”

--------------------

Rochester NY, Saturday afternoon, Dec 29th 2007

“My name is Christine Kade,” I stated as I glared at the obnoxious woman in front of me, “And I am his birth mother.”

It felt extremely strange to say this aloud, both to be using my real name when I wasn’t in my artist persona, and to actually claim Chris as my own. I’d spent so long separating myself from that name and from my relationship to Chris, that I almost felt a flutter of panic.

Chris sat off to the side, staring at me with his mouth dropped open. At any other time, I’d take the time to tease him about that expression, maybe even taking pictures to rub it in later. However, this was definitely not the time nor circumstance for that kind of thing.

While this woman was gaping at me, I looked her over, taking in all the important details. Those, along with what I’d overheard upon entering the office, told me everything that I needed to know about her and her motives.

I quickly glanced at the name plaque on the desk, which read ‘MRS KELLER’. Now that I knew who I was dealing with, I slapped a folder full of paperwork down on her desk in front of her.

“This is all the legal paperwork to give me full custody over Chris,” I told Keller while keeping my tone flat and even. “Including a court order for him to be turned over to me immediately.”

“WHAT?” Keller and Chris both blurted out at the same time.

This paperwork was all real and legal, even if a few less than legal methods might have been used to cut through all the red tape in time. As soon as Carson knew what was going on and what I intended, she pulled on a few strings and called in a couple favors. And though I couldn’t prove anything, nor would I even attempt to do so, but I was sure that Hartford had done a bit of her magic at Carson’s request as well.

“It’s all there,” I told Keller, still not looking at Chris. “All official.”

Keller glared at me. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re wasting your time. This boy is not leaving with you.”

“The court order says otherwise,” I pointed out sweetly. My illusionary disguise hid my real features, including my tail twitching sharply.

“The MCO is taking custody of the boy,” Keller insisted. “They’ll be here within the hour.”

I bit my lip and refrained from doing what I really wanted to do at that moment. Violence had never been my first response to trouble. In fact, my first response was usually either mockery or escape, but neither of those would work in this situation either, at least not quite yet.

So, with a heroic demonstration of patience, I held up a single finger and told her, “The MCO does not have the legal authority to take custody of a minor who has not been charged with any crime.” I held up a second finger. “You do not have the legal authority to give him to the MCO or anyone else without the proper legal authority.” A third finger went up, though I also pointed to the folder that I’d placed on her desk. “This means that you ARE legally required to give him to me. Failure to do so will not only get you charged with violating a court order, but also sued for everything you have.”

Keller jumped to her feet and glared at me. “Now, listen here,” she started.

However, before she could charge into whatever rant she was about to go into, I held up the fourth finger. “And of course, all that legal trouble isn’t even taking into account what the mutant community might do if word gets out that you gave Chris to the MCO. I imagine that some of them might decide to hold you personally responsible for such a thing.”

I gave her my best predatory smile. And while my real features might have been hidden at the moment, that was still enough to make her pale and back away.

“You…you can’t threaten me,” Keller said, though she was shaking a bit.

“No threats,” I pointed out, once again keeping my tone sweet and friendly…with a sharp edge. “I am just pointing out the consequences of ignoring a legal court order. And if you happen to anger other people in the process…well…I have absolutely no control over what random people might decide to do on their own.”

Normally, I wasn’t one to give a damn about the law, much less use it to my own purposes, so this was quite the exception. Of course, this was probably the only time I’d ever had the law on my side, or at least, had someone like a judge who would make sure it was actually enforced.

Keller glared at me with pure hate in her expression. Then without another word, she quickly signed the paperwork that officially transferred custody of Chris to me.

“Now get out of here,” Keller ordered. “I don’t want to see either of you ever again.”

“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” I lied before finally turning my attention to Chris.

Chris was no longer sitting, having stood up sometime during our exchange. He was watching me with an expression of confusion and stunned disbelief.

“Come on,” I gently told him. “If you have any belongings here, you’d better grab them quick.”

He hesitated a moment before holding up a plastic grocery bag that didn’t seem to hold much more than spare underwear and some toiletries. “Just this.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” I told him, shooting a quick glance at Keller.

Chris didn’t recognize me through my disguise, but after giving his own quick look at Keller, he quickly followed me anyway. Once we’d stepped out the door, we both let out sighs of relief.

“I’ll have someone pick up your stuff from your old house,” I told him as we walked across the parking lot. “It won’t be safe for us to go there ourselves.”

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

“Keller is watching us out the window,” I explained, being careful not to look back at her since I didn’t want her to realize that I was onto her. “She probably wants to get a good description of my car and maybe even a license plate number. You can bet that as soon as she gets that, she’ll call her friends in Humanity First.”

“What?” Chris gasped. “Humanity First?”

I nodded at that. “Yeah. Didn’t you see the H1 pin on her jacket? She tried giving you to the MCO, and when that didn’t work, she’ll probably try to get her friends on it.”

“Oh shit,” he gasped, only to pause and glance at me with a nervous chuckle. “I guess, as a friend of mine might say…pardon my French.”

“Perfectly understandable, considering the situation,” I told him with a chuckle.

Once we were in the car and pulling out of the parking lot, I relaxed just a little. However, I kept a close watch on the streets around us, specifically, I looked for any vehicles that might be following us.

Finally, Chris gave me a suspicious look and asked, “Are you really my birth mother?”

I hesitated for several seconds, feeling my throat close up before I was able to answer. “Yes,” I told him in a quiet voice. “This isn’t how I imagined our official reunion would go…and I am very sorry that it happened in these circumstances. I’m sorry for what happened to your family.”

Chris didn’t say anything in response, but he did keep looking at me, as though caught between trying to sneak glances and just outright staring. This whole situation was strange for me, and I could only imagine how much worse it would be for him.

After just a couple minutes, I pulled the car off the road and into a parking lot. “Grab your things,” I told Chris. “We’re switching cars.”

“What?” he asked in confusion. “Why?”

“I had a feeling that we’d need to avoid trouble,” I answered as I got out of the car. “So, I left another car here…as a precaution.”

We quickly moved to the second car that I’d positioned ahead of time and took off again. If either H1 or the MCO came looking for us, they’d be searching for the wrong car.

“That takes care of the critical part of our getaway,” I told Chris. “From here on out, the smart move would be to just head to my place as fast as possible. We could probably even get there before anyone finds that car…” I gestured back to the car I’d just left behind.

“Where are we going?” Chris cautiously asked.

“Manhattan,” I answered, taking my eyes off the road just long enough to look at him for a moment. “But considering the situation…” I paused for a moment. “I imagine you have a lot of questions, and I think we need to talk…sooner rather than later.”

--------------------

The motel was cheap. Not ‘by the hour’ cheap, but not really a whole lot better. Still, it had the advantages of taking cash and not asking questions, both of which were valuable when people might be on the lookout for us.

Once I’d made sure our room was clear of bugs, of the surveillance variety if not the skittering type, and that there were no peepholes, I decided that it was time to get down to business. With that, I pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses, where I poured us each a couple fingers.

“You’re going to want something to drink,” I told Chris, who was giving me odd looks. “I know I will.”

“I’m underage,” he pointed out, his tone adding a silent ‘duh’.

I rolled my eyes and reminded him, “You’re a regenerator, so you don’t have to worry about getting drunk.”

Chris stared at me with a look of surprise. “How did you…?”

“I think it’s about time to change into something a little more comfortable,” I said, abruptly cutting Chris off. I took off my professional suit jacket and set it aside.

“Um, what are you…?” Chris started to ask, suddenly looking extremely uncomfortable. I was about to make that even worse.

A moment later, I reached up to the magic pendant that I wore and deactivated it, turning off the illusion that disguised my real appearance. In an instant, my devilish good looks were visible once again.

“IMP!” Chris blurted out, his eyes going wide in surprise.

“That should answer the question of how I knew about your powers,” I told him with a wry smile.

Chris just stared at me for several long seconds before he seemed to deflate. “So, I guess you made all that stuff up about being my real mom.”

“No,” I responded quietly. “I didn’t.” At his look of doubt, I explained, “Every word I told you today is the absolute truth.”

Before Chris could say anything, I carefully set something down on the table beside us. It was a pendant on a chain, which contained a small glass vial with a metal cap. The vial itself contained some of Chris’ blood, blood that he’d willingly donated as part of a magic spell. As soon as I pulled my hand away from the pendant, it began sliding across the table all on its own, moving right towards me.

Chris froze, his eyes locked firmly onto the still moving pendant. “That’s…” His voice was shaky as he obviously recognized the item. “I lost that…”

“And I found it stuck to my shoe,” I said. “Grimes told me what it was…and helped me figure out whose blood was inside.” I chuckled weakly as I added, “It was…surprising.”

Of course, Grimes had helped me find Chris by temporarily reversing the magic of the pendant, but that had long since worn off and it was back to the way it had originally been made… to track down Chris’ close blood relatives. Namely, me.

“No way,” Chris squeaked out while I snatched up the pendant and gave it back to him. He held it up and confirmed that it was still gently pulling towards me, which proved that I had a strong blood connection to him. “But you’re…”

“My real name is Christine Kade,” I quietly told him. “Technically, it’s Candice Christine Kade…but I never liked my first name.”

Now Chris was staring at me with a look of stunned disbelief. “That name… My mom told me that she used to have a friend named that…”

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh as I sat down. “Suzie Q…your mom was my best friend when we were growing up. We were thick as thieves, well before I ever actually became one.” I gave him a self-conscious smile.

“She said that Candice…that you were dead,” Chris whispered.

I reached up and tapped one of my horns. “My parents were so embarrassed by these that they told everyone I was dead.” I picked up my glass of bourbon and took a sip. “And I was too embarrassed to contradict them.”

Chris nodded along as though understanding. Then again, maybe he did understand. Some of his friends and classmates had similar stories.

“When I was looking for someone I could trust,” I quietly told him, finding it hard to get out the words, “…to be the mother that I couldn’t…I immediately thought of my old best friend. I picked Suzie Q to be your mom.”

For several long seconds, Chris just stared at me before he finally said, “You… You really are my birth mom…” He looked and sounded completely shaken by that revelation, though he was taking it a little better than I’d expected. Then he grabbed his glass of bourbon and tried to down it in one gulp

--------------------

Rochester NY, Sunday morning, Dec 30th 2007

I woke up in the morning after what had been a strange and awkward night for both Chris and myself. Sure, we’d slept in separate beds, but it had been in the same motel room, and in spite of our biological connection, until recently we had only been student and teacher.

It was uncomfortable to sleep this close to someone who was little more than an acquaintance, but we’d made it work for the night. This had mostly involved wearing clothes to bed and not looking too closely at each other as well.

But in spite of how awkward it had been to share sleeping arrangements like this, the day before had been strangely nice. Chris and I had just talked for hours. I told him a little about my past, about how I’d run away from home and had been homeless until I’d fallen in with the crew who taught me my profession. However, I’d been light on many details.

Most of what we talked about had been Suzie Q, my former best friend and his mother. At one point, she’d been my closest friend, and after decades apart, it had been great to talk with her again. It had felt right, like a missing piece of my life was finally back where it belonged. But now, right after we’d reconnected, she was gone for good.

Chris and I both grieved for the woman, though in very different ways. I’d lost a childhood friend while he’d lost the only mother he’d ever known. So, we mostly talked about her and her life.

I told Chris all about Suzie Q, the girl I’d known while growing up, long before he had ever been born. This was a side of her that he knew little about, so he listened in rapt attention as I regaled him with stories of our shared misadventures. A few of them, she’d already told him about herself, which helped to cement our history together.

Once I was awake and ready, I asked Chris, “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” he answered in a voice that was drained of energy. Even I could tell that he wasn’t fine.

“You know, Bart,” I said, using the nickname that I’d given him back at Whateley when I’d first begun teaching him. I knew that it annoyed him, which was the point. I wanted to see if I could spark a bit more life back into him. “Staying here probably wasn’t very smart.”

Chris brightened up a bit, enough to give me a defiant glare. “If I’m Bart, then doesn’t that make you Marge?”

“D’oh,” I responded sharply, letting him feel like he’d won that exchange.

My eyes went to his hair, which was bleach blonde and spikey, the very thing that had earned him the nickname of ‘Bart’. “You know,” I thought aloud, “your hair is VERY distinctive… If anyone is on the lookout for us, they’ll be looking for that…”

“Oh,” he responded, self-consciously reaching up to touch his hair.

“I’ll get you a hat to cover that up with,” I told him with a nod, reaching up to activate my magic pendant so that I could hide my own appearance long enough to go out in public. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

With that, I slipped out of the motel room and quickly looked around the area, trying to see if there were any signs of suspicious activity, or of anyone watching us. I immediately spotted some suspicious activity, but more in the line of a small-time drug deal going down rather than anything related to me and Chris.

There was a gas station convenience store right across the street, which was exactly what I was looking for. It would be open first thing in the morning, and it would likely have a broad mix of crap, including breakfast items and cheap trucker hats.

--------------------

Rochester NY, Sunday morning, Dec 30th 2007

Chris stared at the door that the Imp had just left from. The Imp. His mother. The birth mother he’d been curious about for his entire life had actually been right under his own nose for the last couple months, and he hadn’t had a single clue.

The whole situation seemed ridiculous, like some kind of weird prank. However, even the Imp wouldn’t play a prank like this. In fact, ever since she’d shown up and saved him from Mrs. Keller, she’d actually been surprisingly serious.

He didn’t know what to think of the situation or of his mother’s identity. On one hand, he was thankful to finally know who she was, but on the other hand… She was the Imp. She was a criminal…a former supervillain. She was also the teacher who’d helped him out more than any other teacher ever had.

Then he thought of the Imp again, and of the way she’d marched straight into Mrs. Keller’s office and stated that she wanted him. The way she spoke… It had been with absolute certainty, and a conviction that he couldn’t doubt, even if he didn’t understand it. After all, if she really had wanted him that badly, then why had she given him up in the first place?

“Mom,” Chris whispered, thinking not of his birth mother but of his real mom, the one who’d raised him. “Dad…”

Tears ran down his eyes as he thought of them and the fact that they were now gone for good. He’d never be able to see them again. And while he was happy to have discovered his birth mother, their loss was too great a price.

Chris staggered to the bathroom, thinking about what the Imp had said about changing his appearance. His hair style was too recognizable and could give him away to the people who were trying to find him.

“Like she isn’t recognizable,” he muttered. The horns, tail, and scales all stood out far more than his hair. Of course, she had that magic medallion which hid all that while he didn’t.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, feeling a growing sense of frustration that broke through the shock he’d been feeling. He’d originally bleached his hair blonde so that he could fit in better with his family, so that it wouldn’t be as obvious that he’d been adopted.

Then on a sudden impulse, he threw open the medicine cabinet and looked at the contents, which had been left behind by some previous person. There was a small travel-sized tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, a comb, and even a pair of electric clippers. Chris had discovered these things the night before and wondered if the room cleaners had ever bothered to look in there.

Chris grabbed the clippers and before he could think better of it, he turned them on and ran them over his head. Once, twice, and then a third time. He let out a loud howl of rage as he cut off his hair until it was all gone. Then he looked down into the sink, which was now covered with his blonde locks.

For a minute, Chris stood there, staring at his reflection again, the surge of emotion having burned out and leaving him feeling drained once again. With that, he turned away from the mirror, feeling just a tiny bit better for having let it all out like that.

--------------------

Rochester NY, Sunday morning, Dec 30th 2007

I finished up and got back to the motel room about fifteen minutes after I’d left, but as I stood just outside the door, I heard a yell from inside. It didn’t sound like a yell of pain…at least not the physical kind. It sounded like someone yelling in grief, anger and frustration.

“Chris,” I whispered quietly.

I slowly opened the door, making sure to take my time with it and to make enough noise so that I didn’t catch him by surprise. But once I stepped inside, I realized that I was no longer hearing the cry of distress, but the sound of something buzzing in the bathroom.

“I’m back,” I called out. “I got you a hat.”

The buzzing stopped and Chris came out of the bathroom, holding a pair of electric clippers in his hand. I had no idea where he’d gotten them, unless he’d brought them with the rest of his toiletries in that plastic bag. However, what really caught my attention was his hair…or lack of it.

“I…I don’t need a hat anymore,” Chris said as he ran a hand over his head, which was now covered in dark stubble rather than his usual blonde spiky locks.

“I can see that,” I responded, deciding not to make a big deal about the hair…or about the fact that his eyes were red and a bit puffy, as though he’d been crying. After all, even I knew that this wasn’t really about the hair. This was probably about him feeling like he no longer had any control over his own life and seizing control over the one thing that he could control. “Well, you have a new hat anyway.”

Chris nodded and accepted the hat without a word. He looked tired, somewhere between being emotionally drained and defiant, possibly both at the same time.

“I got breakfast,” I announced, holding up the bag I’d brought with me. “Danishes and cheap breakfast sandwiches.” Then I held up the cup of coffee I’d bought for myself. “And I got myself a little go juice… Mmmmm, coffee…”

“Does that even do you any good?” Chris cautiously asked. “I mean, the caffeine. You’re a regenerator so…”

“So, caffeine doesn’t work on me much,” I agreed with a nod and another sip from the cup. “You should never underestimate the value of the placebo effect, especially as a regenerator. Sometimes, just going through the motions can help.”

“Oh,” he responded with a thoughtful look.

“Besides,” I added with a grin. “I like the taste.”

After this, we ate breakfast in silence. I was careful not to look too closely at Chris’ shaved head and he seemed to be doing the same with my horns and tail.

Even as we took time to eat, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that we’d stayed in the area a little too long. If we’d just continued driving yesterday, we could have gotten well ahead of any potential pursuers, escaping them before they’d even realized there was a chase. But now, we would have to deal with possible lookouts and active searches in the area. Still, I couldn’t regret having spent the time with Chris, especially since I’d always thought that I’d never even get to see my son again.

--------------------

“SLUG BUG,” I called out as I carefully watched the other vehicles on the road.

Chris snorted at that, then asked, “Did you see Alyss’ new car?”

I smiled faintly, relieved to see that he was willing to interact again. Ever since we’d hit the road a short time ago, he’d been lost in his own thoughts.

“The monster truck?” I asked in amusement. “If a guy made a car like that, I’d joke about him compensating for something.”

Chris chuckled slightly. “She is kind of short.”

I nodded my agreement, thinking of his friend. Alyss, or Ribbon as she was also called, was an odd duck, and I meant that in the best sense of the word. Sure, she looked like she was only ten years old, which made her the target of some teasing among her classmates, but she understood my jokes and references a lot better than most of her peers.

“There,” I mused, spotting a car that was parked along the road. There was a prominent H1 sticker in the window. “Another one.”

Ever since we’d left the motel, I’d spotted a number of vehicles with Humanity First stickers, more than I normally would. It seemed that they were out in force, keeping a lookout for Chris and me. Or at least, I assumed that they were looking for us.

“We must have really pissed that Keller woman off,” I said with a chuckle. “It looks like she’s called in all her friends…”

I grinned evilly. The next time I was bored and looking for a ‘special friend’ to entertain me, her name would be up near the top of the list.

Chris self-consciously reached up and touched his head. “What if they recognize me?” Then he looked at me and asked, “Shouldn’t you wear a disguise too?”

“This is my disguise,” I reminded him wryly, gesturing down at myself and the illusion that hid my GSD. “Besides, I’m not distinctive enough to stand out when I’m like this. One hot looking brunette looks much like any other.”

We drove in silence for another minute before Chris awkwardly said, “A couple of my friends and I were talking about Humanity First awhile back. Alyss says that she thinks most of them aren’t really bad people, just people who are scared and trying to protect their families from potential threats that they don’t understand and feel powerless against.”

“That…might be true,” I admitted with a shake of my head. “But pretty much every interaction that I’ve ever had with them has been…negative.” I chuckled at that understatement. “Scared people can be dangerous…no matter how good they might be otherwise.”

Chris nodded. “Alyss says that all it takes is one or two angry assholes to rile up a bunch of people into doing things they normally wouldn’t.”

“And that is definitely true,” I agreed with a shake of my head. “Pretty much, every riot starts that way. The problem is, there are a lot of assholes in the world, and even the nicest person can become one, depending on the circumstances.”

“Yeah,” he responded with a deep sigh, “I guess that’s true.”

After this, we were both silent for several minutes before Chris abruptly changed the subject and asked, “If you’re my birth mom….then who is my dad?”

I nearly started to choke at that, and it was everything I could do to keep my eye on the road. After a few seconds, I cleared my throat and asked, “Have you ever heard of Captain Condom?”

Chris’ eyes went wide with a look of horror. “You’re kidding…”

“I’ve never met the guy,” I finished with a smirk.

Chris glared at me for several seconds before turning to stare out the window, apparently dropping the subject for the moment. That was a relief because I wasn’t ready to talk about that topic and wouldn’t be anytime soon.

--------------------

“I call shotgun,” I announced as we walked across the parking lot back to the car.

“I don’t think it works that way when you’re the one driving,” Chris pointed out.

Chris and I had been on the road for several hours but hadn’t actually made it very far. Between holiday traffic, several bad accidents, and just general bad luck, we’d been stuck in an almost solid traffic jam for most of that entire time. That was why, by the time we stopped for lunch and a potty break, we’d barely made it fifteen miles from the motel.

“Spoilsport,” I teased him.

As we reached the car again, I noticed the way Chris gave it an unhappy look and hesitated at the door. Then it struck me. Just a few days ago, he’d been in a serious car crash that cost him the lives of his parents. That kind of thing left an impact, and the trauma sure as hell didn’t fade away that quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a bit of PTSD related to cars now.

“So, he doesn’t really like riding in cars anymore,” I quietly muttered to myself with an ache in my heart. “Of all the things he could have inherited from me.”

We climbed into the car a few seconds later and I noticed a truck driving past. What I noticed was the MCO markings on the side. That was the second time I’d seen that truck in the past hour, or at least, one like it. The MCO still had a presence in the area and I didn’t know if it was related to Chris or not.

“We need to get out of here as soon as possible,” I said aloud, once again regretting that I hadn’t driven us a bit further away before we’d stopped for our talk. “I’ll feel better once you’re safely back at Whateley.”

Chris gave me a look of surprise. “But my tuition…”

“Is taken care of,” I assured him. “Don’t worry about that.”

“But…” he began to protest.

Just then, there was the roar of an engine as a car raced down the street in front of us, amazing me with how fast they were going since we’d spent so long stuck in stop and go traffic. But then the car made a rapid turn, or at least tried to, because in an instant, the car was rolling over and slamming into the side of a nearby building.

Chris leapt out of our car and ran for that one. I called for him to wait, but it was too late.

“Damn heroic instincts,” I grumbled as I looked around nervously, remembering the MCO truck I’d seen just a few minutes earlier. “We don’t need this kind of attention.”

I climbed out of the car and ran after Chris, who was already beside the crashed car, looking to see if everyone was all right. He tried pulling the door open, but when it was jammed, he shifted to using his powers. His entire body glowed with a golden aura as he pulled on the door, finally breaking it open enough for the passengers to get out.

“Too much attention,” I muttered, fully aware of the fact that I was still hidden by my illusion, and just as importantly, that Chris was still glowing. “You did your good deed for the day,” I called out to him. “Now we have to get out of here.”

Before Chris could even move a step, a flash of blue came rushing down the street towards us, moving just as fast as that car had been going if not faster. It was a man in a blue and white costume, who was also wearing a blue helmet that covered most of his head, leaving only his lower face exposed.

A moment later, the costumed man slammed into Chris, intentionally ramming right into him and coming to an immediately halt. Chris’ PK shell flared bright gold as he was thrown back twenty feet where he slammed into a wall.

“CHRIS,” I exclaimed.

“I WON’T LET YOU HURT THOSE PEOPLE, YOU VILLAIN,” the costumed man shouted.

“Oh great,” I groaned. “Another idiot hero.”

“My name is Speedrun,” the hero announced while posing heroically. “And I will protect you from this dangerous fiend.”

Chris was already getting back to his feet, obviously shaken and even hurt from the impact. However, he’d taken even bigger hits while at school, and I knew that given a little time, his regeneration would take care of the injuries.

“What are you talking about?” Chris demanded, looking both confused and angry. “I was trying to help those people…”

“Enough with your lies,” Speedrun exclaimed, clearly showing off for everyone watching. “You must be that dangerous runaway mutant the MCO is looking for…”

I scowled at that, wondering exactly what story Keller had been spreading. Once we were clear, I’d have to call both Carson and my lawyer to get this all straightened out. After all, I had all the legal paperwork for Chris, including that bitch’s signature acknowledging that.

“Or maybe,” I thought aloud, “the MCO just made up the story on their own.”

They were known for that kind of thing, which was why I’d always avoided them like the plague. It was way too dangerous to get on their radar.

Speedrun shifted position and I could see that he was about to charge at Chris again. I wasn’t about to let that happen though. So, the moment he began to move, I threw several of my throwing spikes, using my PK aura to put a little extra ‘oomph’ behind them. Both spikes struck the hero in the leg, causing him to suddenly fall face first into the ground just as he was rushing off.

“Come on,” I called out to Chris. “Let’s get out of here before Speedbump recovers.”

Chris stared at the downed hero in surprise, then up at me. He gulped, nodded his head, and then staggered towards me as quickly as he could while keeping a nervous eye on Speedrun.

“How bad are you hurt?” I asked Chris as he reached me.

“Mostly bruised,” he responded before grudgingly admitted, “And maybe a cracked rib.”

I nodded at that, not saying a word since I knew that for a regenerator like him, that wasn’t too serious an injury. Bruises would heal in no time at all and even a cracked rib would only be a memory within the hour.

“He… He just attacked me,” Chris complained as we got back into the car. “That guy didn’t even check on the people in the car…”

“I noticed,” I responded with a nod.

The truth was, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to learn that the reason that car had been speeding was because the driver was trying to escape Speedrun. That would certainly explain why he’d been on the scene so quickly.

“Let’s get home,” I told Chris, hoping that we didn’t run into any more delays.

Sunday afternoon, Dec 30th 2007

“It should not take this long to drive from Rochester to Manhattan,” I complained.

Unfortunately, the traffic situation had only gotten worse. After the encounter with Speedbump, the MCO and H1 had both come out with an even greater presence. It seemed that everywhere I looked, there was either a vehicle marked for one of those groups or someone who was obviously a member.

Just a short distance ahead of us, there was an H1 roadblock. Technically, they weren’t doing a full roadblock since they didn’t have any kind of legal authority to do that that kind of thing, but they were skirting the line as much as they possibly could.

There were three vehicles, two of which had H1 stickers visible in the windows. Two of the cars were parked alongside the road on either side while one was stopped, blocking one of the lanes completely. They were trying to make it look like that car had broken down, forcing all the other drivers to slow down and move around it. And while the other cars were doing that, a small group of men were positioned so that they could look into those cars as they slowly drove past.

“I don’t like the look of that,” I said aloud, wondering how many similar stops had been set up in the area. That would take a lot of people, but if they called in every member they had in New York…

“What are we doing to do?” Chris asked with a worried look.

I thought about it for a moment and then grinned. I could have a lot of fun messing with those idiots. But then, I let out a sigh, reminding myself that this wasn’t the time for that, not when the main goal was to get Chris out of this.

“Too bad you don’t know how to do the camouflage thing yet,” I told Chris. This whole situation would have been so much easier if we’d both been able to turn invisible and sneak past them.

Chris gave me a curious look. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to do that?”

I shrugged. “Who knows. Your PK shell is a lot more flexible than most, but it isn’t quite up to my level. We’ll have to practice and see…sometime when our lives aren’t on the line.”

After this, I pulled off to the side of the road and warned Chris to keep his head down, then I got out of the car and walked towards the group. There were six people in total at their little checkpoint, two for each car, and half of them were wearing H1 pins.

“Do you need some help with your car?” I asked, quickly glancing down at myself to make sure my pendant was active. If they saw the way I really looked, they would have probably attacked me on sight. Either that or run away. You never could tell with some people.

“Engine trouble,” one man said. “We were just about to push it out of the way.”

None of them had made any move to push the car out of the way, but I didn’t call him on this obvious lie since there was probably nothing wrong with the car to start with either.

“Okay,” I responded with a fake smile. “If you guys need another hand…”

“We’re good,” someone else said.

“Alright then,” I told them as I began to turn around, only to pause and look at the H1 sticker on the back window as if it was the first time I’d seen it. “Oh, Humanity First…” I gave a nod of approval, trying hard to hide my contempt. “My husband and I are members too, back in Chicago.”

“Oh, really?” another man said, suddenly giving me a friendly smile. “Good to hear it.”

I looked around, then quietly asked, “Is there something going on here that I should be worried about?”

A couple of the men looked back and forth between each other before the one woman present offered, “We’re keeping an eye out for a dangerous mutant.”

“Really?” I gasped with mock concern.

One of the men nodded agreement, looking grimly determined. “We heard this kid lost control of his powers and killed his parents…then he escaped MCO custody.”

I let out another fake gasp of surprise. So, that was the story they were spreading. It was no wonder H1 and the MCO were so active. Now, the real question was, who was spreading that story. Was it Keller, or maybe the MCO? In the end, the who mattered less than the story itself.

“Then you make sure to keep an eye out,” I warned them.

“We will, ma’am,” one of the men promised. “There is no way I’m going to risk letting some out-of-control mutant get anywhere near my family.”

“Good work,” I told them as I hurried off.

It took every bit of self-control that I had not to flip them all off, or better yet, have some real fun with them. A smirk formed on my lips as I considered all the mischief I could get up to with this group, but I quickly pushed that away.

Once I got back into the car, I told Chris, “Keep down, but crawl into the back seat. Hide down low and throw some of that clutter over yourself because we’re going to drive past those idiots.”

Chris did as I asked without question. Once he was laying down in the foot space, he covered himself with the blanket and bags that I’d left in the back. He couldn’t hide from a real examination, but we didn’t need to. All we needed to do was get past these amateurs who wouldn’t be able to do more than a quick glance through the window as we drove past.

A minute later, I slowly drove past the idiots, giving them a friendly wave as I did so. I got several nods of acknowledgement and even a friendly wave back. And with that, we slipped right past their checkpoint.

--------------------

“I still can’t believe that worked,” Chris said, referring to the H1 checkpoint that we’d evaded.

“Just like slipping an extra kid into a drive-in theater,” I said with a grin, remembering a time when Suzie Q and I had done that very thing. Of course, back in those days, we were the ones being smuggled into the theater to save a couple extra bucks, and her dad had been the one driving the car.

Chris gave me an odd look, then shook his head. He was silent for a full minute before saying, “I can’t go back…can I?”

“Back to the way things were?” I asked. “No, you can’t. But back to Rochester… That shouldn’t be much problem, though you will need to give it a bit of time.”

“I can’t even get my stuff from my bedroom,” he muttered bitterly. “My cousins have probably already raided it.”

I scowled at that. “We’ll get the lawyers involved,” I promised him. “They’ll look over your parents’ will and make sure you’re not being robbed of anything they wanted you to have.” Then I smirked. “And if necessary, I’ll send a recovery agent to get back any of your belongings that they snatched.”

“Lawyers?” Chris asked, giving me a skeptical look.

“I know,” I responded with a sigh. “I’m not a fan of the law since it never seems to work in my favor, and I’m an even lesser fan of lawyers.” I gave an exaggerated shudder. “Some of those guys are worse than most villains I know.”

Chris gave a faint snicker at that. “I’ll have to miss the funeral.”

Those words drained all the levity. “Unfortunately,” I admitted. “It wouldn’t be a good idea to go back so soon…especially not there.” I scowled at that, feeling more than a little unhappy about that fact since I wanted to say goodbye to Suzie Q as well. “But we’ll go back and visit their graves when it’s a bit safer to do so.”

“Sure,” Chris responded without much energy. I didn’t blame him.

A short time after this, Chris suddenly perked up and pointed out the car window. “What’s that?” Before I could answer, he added, “Is it another Humanity First stop?”

I looked to where he was pointing, seeing that it wasn’t any kind of a checkpoint but a small group of large trucks parked well off the road. The tent set up behind the vehicles gave me a good idea of what this was.

“Worse,” I answered with a scowl. “That looks like an MCO field operations site.”

“Oh shit,” Chris blurted out.

“They don’t seem to be watching the road,” I pointed out thoughtfully. After all, they were set up a bit off the road. “No checkpoint or anything like that, so we shouldn’t have any problem getting past. My guess is that these guys are here for rapid deployment in case someone else reports us. Or reports you, since nobody else has any idea that the beautiful, talented, and fabulous Imp is involved.”

“And modest,” Chris added with a snort.

“Oh,” I beamed at him. “You noticed.”

As I expected, we made it past the MCO without any issue, though we were only half a mile past then when I saw a flash of blue from the corner of my eye, right before something smashed into the front corner of the car. Suddenly, I was shoved off the road and came to a quick stop against a guard rail.

“NO!” Chris cried out, curling up in response, at least as much as his seatbelt would let him.

“It’s all right,” I reassured him, even putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, though I was looking out the windows for the cause of our crash. “We’re both all right…”

“Not again,” he whispered. “Not again.”

“We’re both fine,” I repeated. “And right now, we have bigger problems to deal with.”

“What?” Chris asked, looking up and blinking.

I gestured out the window where a familiar figure was standing a good twenty feet away, posing with his hands on his hips. Speedbump.

“Oh shit,” Chris gasped.

“Driving away won’t work,” I pointed out as I put the car in park. “He’d outrun us way too easily.”

“You can beat him again,” Chris said, surprising me a little with how confident he sounded in that. “You did it the last time.”

“I could,” I agreed. After all, I’d made a whole career of escaping and humiliating ‘heroes’ like Speedbump. “But he isn’t our biggest problem.” At Chris’ blank look, I gestured back the way we’d come. “The MCO. You want to bet how quickly they hear about this and come to check it out?”

“Oh shit,” he repeated, his eyes going wide.

“COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP,” Speedbump yelled at us.

“You have to deal with Speedbump,” I told Chris. “I’ll take care of our MCO issue?”

“WHAT?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “He’s a superhero…”

“No,” I corrected. “He’s a superzero. You can take him.”

“But…,” he started to protest.

I held up a finger and told him, “You’ve got this.”

Chris stared at me for several seconds as if sure that I had to be joking, then he gave a faint nod. “Okay,” he said, not sounding all that confident. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” I responded before gesturing to his watch. “But before we go out, you should activate the special feature of your watch.”

Chris gave me another look of surprise. “How did you know about that?” Then he paused and gasped in sudden realization. “You’re the one who gave it to me…”

“Merry Christmas,” I told him wryly.

“THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE,” Speedbump yelled.

I ignored the blowhard and reminded Chris. “As it should have explained in the directions, the special feature is a devisor component that will scramble all video recordings of you for up to ten minutes. You don’t want some onlooker to record this fight, because that will give the MCO and any other idiots a clear picture of what you look like. And besides, it will also keep security from reaming you as bad once we get back to school.”

And with that, I clicked the car door open and stepped out. Chris twisted the watch face, activating the video scrambling effect. I nodded in approval while clicking a similar devise that was hidden in my own belt. It wouldn’t do for any onlookers to catch a picture of pseudo-famous artist Candice Kade in this situation.

“This is just like your combat finals,” I told Chris. “This is the kind of situation that you’ve been training for.”

With that, I gave Chris a nod of approval, then turned and began running back the way we’d come.

--------------------

Sunday afternoon, Dec 30th 2007

Chris watched as the Imp ran off, leaving him to deal with a real superhero on his own. He felt a knot of nervousness in his stomach as he considered the opponent in front of him.

A superhero. A real superhero. And the Imp…his biological mother…had just abandoned him to face the hero on his own.

“Why do I even have to fight a hero?” Chris quietly asked himself. “I didn’t do anything wrong…”

“I’ve got you now, you dirty murderer,” Speedrun exclaimed before he suddenly ran at Chris.

The speedster slammed into Chris before he could even protest his innocence. He was sent flying back where he hit the guard rail beside the road and severely dented it. His whole body ached from that hit, and if he hadn’t redirected his shell in time to block the worst of the impact… That hit would have been enough to kill a normal person.

“That’s why,” Chris muttered as he got back to his feet, wincing in pain.

Speedrun stood back with a cocky smirk on his face. “You shouldn’t have picked evil,” the hero exclaimed, posing a bit as he did so as if he was in front of a TV camera. Since there were cars nearby and people with cameras, he might very well have been. That made Chris thankful for the watch he’d gotten for Christmas.

“I didn’t do anything,” Chris said. “You attacked me for no good reason. You’re the villain here.”

A look of anger flashed across Speedrun’s face, perhaps because Chris wasn’t playing into the role of being some villain. He rushed at Chris again, who shifted his body to the side just a moment before the impact, letting Speedrun zoom right past him.

Chris let out a sigh of relief, glad that he’d been able to avoid at least one hit from that hero. And Speedrun was a hero, even if the Imp didn’t seem to take him very seriously.

“Is she EVER serious?” Chris snorted to himself.

Then Chris suddenly remembered that video he’d seen of the Imp fighting Mr. Williams, the history teacher at Whateley, in a SIMS match. That fight had been vicious and brutal, not at all goofy or mocking like he would have expected from the usually comedic Imp. He shuddered at the memory.

“She’s SCARY when she’s serious,” he said, turning his full attention to his opponent.

Speedrun had attacked him four times now, twice here and another two times when they’d met earlier. And each time, the speedster just ran straight at him and hit him head-on. Each time. It was…simple. It was…predictable.

Chris’ eyes widened in realization. Speedrun relied entirely on his powers, with no real skill or training involved. All he seemed to do was blindly charge in. This guy never would have made it through a single week in BMA without Sensei Ito breaking him of that habit.

The speedster couldn’t stop in an instant, because after he ran past Chris, it took him several more seconds before he was able to come to a stop and then turn around. Then as Chris expected, he simply charged at Chris one more time.

This time, Chris knew exactly what was coming and he had time to brace himself. He pushed all the energy of his shell to his arm and expanded it like a shield. Then as Speedrun hit him, he simultaneously stepped aside while using his shield to push back and make sure he didn’t take a hit. Once again, Speedrun missed him.

“She said I could do it,” Chris reminded himself, feeling more confident now.

“You little punk,” Speedrun snarled as he positioned himself for another charge.

Chris didn’t bother responding since he knew that Speedrun wouldn’t listen. Instead, he positioned himself for the oncoming attack, imagining that if the Imp was fighting Speedrun, she’d probably be waving a red flag at him as if she was dealing with a charging bull.

“But she didn’t even think he was worth fighting,” Chris mused, now understanding why.

But what really struck Chris was the realization that everything he thought about the way Speedrun was fighting, were things that the Imp had once accused him of. Speedrun was fighting the same way that Chris used to. All power and aggression, no technique or strategy. That was why Chris had always been beaten so badly, and why he was confident that he could beat Speedrun. He’d been where Speedrun was…and he’d grown past it.

This time when Speedrun came, Chris shifted to the side but stuck out his leg, focusing most of his shell’s energy in that area. Instead of slamming him, Speedrun tripped over his leg and went flying face first into the ground in a long slide that looked even worse than when the Imp had taken him out earlier.

Chris walked up to the downed hero and stood over him for several seconds, feeling nothing but contempt. He was really starting to understand why the Imp didn’t like superheroes.

“You healed from that leg injury earlier,” Chris thought aloud. “So, you must have some kind of fast healing…”

With that, Chris kicked the hero’s leg, breaking it with a nasty snap before he shoved him off the road and into the ditch below.

--------------------

Sunday afternoon, Dec 30th 2007

I ran back towards the MCO encampment, hoping to get this done and over with as soon as possible. It was pretty chilly out, so the faster I could get back into the warm car, the better.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to switch into my working clothes, which would have been much more appropriate and comfortable for what I was doing. Well, technically I was wearing working clothes, but my blouse and slacks were more for a classroom than for tussling with the MCO.

“No help for that now,” I muttered, knowing that time was of the essence.

As I approached the encampment, I saw a large power frame moving out in front. I hadn’t seen it before so they’d either been keeping it in that tent or inside the large truck. Someone was operating it at the moment, so they’d obviously heard about the encounter with Speedbump and were off to check it out. I grimaced in determination, knowing that I had to stop them before they could get anywhere near Chris.

This was the part where I would normally rush in, grab their attention with a daring act of fabulousness, then mock them mercilessly as I led them off in another direction. After that, it would be a simple matter of losing them. However, I couldn’t do that this time.

I couldn’t let them see me. Or more specifically, there was no way in Hell that I was going to let the MCO know that the fabulous Imp was involved. I did NOT want to get on their radar in any way, shape, or form. The MCO had way too many resources and connections for me to risk that.

A moment later, I brought up my chameleon field, using my PK aura to camouflage me. And with that active, I didn’t need my pendant to hide my identity, so I deactivated that in order to save its battery.

I moved faster than I should if I wanted to be undetectable, so that if anyone looked, I’d appear to be a human shaped blur in the air. I’d have to move a bit slower to really be invisible, and I didn’t have time for that luxury. But in spite of that, none of the MCO agents or technicians noticed me, and I reached the power frame before anyone even realized I was there.

A lot of people didn’t know the difference between power armor and a power frame, though the fact was, they were only vaguely similar. Power armor was wrapped around your body and usually wasn’t too much larger than the human body because of that. A power frame was less armor…and more like driving a tank with arms and legs.

This power armor stood about twelve feet tall and was only vaguely humanoid in shape. The cockpit with the pilot was right in the center of the main body, with a thick metal latch that they locked behind them.

I leapt onto the power frame’s back and quickly scrambled up to the hatch. It was locked of course, but that was no real concern. I formed my PK claws and sliced right through the lock, giving me access to the inside.

Normally, I would have taken the opportunity to mock the pilot or give a good one-liner, but I bit back on my instincts and remained silent. Instead, I tossed not one but two stink bombs inside the cockpit, then dropped to the ground, grinning to myself. I got that trick from Melissa.

The stink bombs went off and a thick cloud of stench began to pour out of the hatch. I would have enjoyed watching the pilot gagging and trying to escape, but instead, I remained focused on my task, which was to make sure that they couldn’t come after us. I drove my PK claws right into the power frame, right in the sensitive hydraulics and cables which were exposed at the weak point right behind the knees. That would keep this thing from being able to march forward, even if someone was able to deal with the lingering stench.

“Trixie makes the best stink bombs,” I mused to myself even as I rushed away from the power frame.

MCO agents and the power frame technicians were so distracted by the pilot emerging from the hatch in order to empty his stomach, that they still didn’t notice me. I took full advantage of that to rush to their nearest truck and then to the one beside it. In mere seconds, every one of their vehicles had at least two slashed tires. It would take awhile for them to get moving after this.

I took a moment to lament on how little time I’d had to set this up. If I’d had time to plan, I would have snuck in earlier, slipped laxative into their lunches, and then caused a lot of subtle sabotages that they wouldn’t find or repair so quickly. Hell, if I’d had more time, I would have thrown in a few ‘clues’ to send them on a wild goose chase and maybe even lead them to someone I didn’t like. But sadly, none of that was to be.

“Such a missed opportunity,” I muttered as I hurried away, being even more careful not to be seen as I slipped away from their camp and returned to where I’d left Chris.

When I got back to the car, Chris was waiting for me without any sign of Speedbump. I took one glance at the car and decided that one of our next steps would be to switch cars again, because this one had drawn way too much attention.

“Where’s the superzero?” I asked curiously.

Chris gestured down the hill beside the road. I glanced over the edge and saw the costumed buffoon below, rolling on the ground in pain and grabbing at his legs.

“Good job,” I told Chris with a grin, pleased to see that I’d been right about this fight. “Now, let’s get out of here while we still can.”

Chris stared at the car with a look of dread. “Yeah,” he muttered. “But…”

“I get it,” I told him gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I hate riding in cars too… I feel…trapped.”

He gave me a look of surprise. “You do?”

“It’s not as bad when I’m the one driving,” I admitted. “But yeah, I get it. Unfortunately, it’s either this or try to get away on foot.”

“And that isn’t going to happen,” Chris said with a grimace. Then, he took a deep breath, and with a look of determination, he climbed back into the passenger seat.

I slipped back into my seat and started the car. “It’s a hundred and six miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, and it’s dark…and we’re wearing sunglasses.” I looked to Chris expectantly, waiting for the appropriate line. But instead of replying with ‘Hit it,’ he gave me a blank look. With a disappointed sigh and a shake of my head, I mused, “We definitely need to work on your education of the classics.”

--------------------

“This should do it,” I announced as I parked the car where it wouldn’t be seen from the road. “We can get a new car there…” I gestured towards the other side of the road.

“A used car dealership?” Chris asked in surprise.

“What?” I asked with a smirk. “Did you expect me to carjack someone?”

“No,” he quickly responded. “But, you know…”

“But I am a professional thief,” I agreed pleasantly, nodding along. “Or at least, I was.” Then I pointed out, “The people I always stole from could afford to lose a painting or two. Hell, half the time, they tried to inflate the numbers for the insurance company, trying to steal from them.”

Of course, I didn’t bother telling Chris that I had no intention of actually buying a car from the dealership. For one, it looked like a fairly shady place, and for another, that would leave a paper trail which could be troublesome later on. Instead, I’d cut their cameras, swipe a car they weren’t likely to notice for awhile, and then let it be found and recovered in a day or two once I was done with it.

Chris and I climbed out of the car and stretched. It hadn’t been long since the encounter with Speedbump, but it was nice to loosen up a bit anyway.

“You wait here with our stuff,” I told Chris. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Okay,” he responded, though he seemed a bit hesitant about something. After a couple seconds, he blurted out, “Thank you for teaching me not to fight like Speedrun.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded with a grin and a happy swish of my tail.

“Did you…,” he started self-consciously, not looking directly at me as he did. “Did you know who I was when…?”

“When we first met?” I asked. “When I first started tutoring you?”

Chris gave a faint nod as he finally looked at me again. “Yeah…”

I shook my head. “No idea. I didn’t find out until a couple weeks ago, after you lost that tracking pendant.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, actually looking relieved. Maybe it was over the fact that I hadn’t known he was my son when I’d been humiliating him in our initial training match. “And is that why you’ve been helping my team… Shenanigans?”

“Partly,” I admitted with a shrug. “But I also have an interest in a couple of your friends as well, and even more importantly, I REALLY like your team name.” I flashed him a grin and he laughed.

After this, I checked myself to make sure that I looked presentable, which included having my pendant active, and I was about to start heading towards the dealership. But just then, I noticed something from the corner of my eye and immediately snapped around.

“We’ve been spotted,” I stated.

There were three figures in the air, flying right towards us. They were far enough away that I couldn’t tell for sure, but they appeared to all be men, and each was wearing some kind of lightweight armor over their entire bodies. The armor looked thin enough that I seriously doubted they were full power armor, though all three seemed to have jetpacks and energy rifles.

I hesitated for a moment before reaching up and dropping my illusion. If I’d been on my own, I would have turned invisible and slipped away before those figures ever reached us, but there was no way that I was going to just leave Chris. And since I didn’t want anyone to see Candice Kade fighting, it was time for the Imp to make a reappearance. That shouldn’t be too much of a problem, assuming these guys weren’t MCO.

“My watch,” Chris said, trying to activate the special feature of his watch again.

“Won’t work,” I reminded him. “It needs to be recharged before you can use it again.”

“Damn,” Chris muttered as he braced himself for a fight.

The armored men stopped and hovered in the air a short distance away. Their heads were entirely covered by helmets, but their figures definitely looked masculine. Each of them wore identical looking armor, except for in a different color.

“That’s the car all right,” the man in green armor announced. “And the kid our witness described.”

“So,” the man in blue armor added, “this is the kid who ambushed Speedrun.”

“That’s just what Speedrun told us,” Green responded.

“Yeah,” the man in red armor agreed. “That kid has GOT to be the dangerous mutant that H1 put a bounty on.”

“Bounty hunters,” I muttered with a mixture of annoyance and relief. That meant that they weren’t MCO, which meant that I didn’t have to worry quite as much about them.

“I just want to know who that devil chick is,” Blue added as he pointed his energy rifle in our direction.

“Doesn’t matter,” Red answered. “Not unless H1 pays extra if we kill her too.”

“Get ready,” I warned Chris. “These guys aren’t joking.”

Red was the first to open fire, shooting a blast of energy right at Chris, who dove out of the way. Two of the bounty hunters were focused on him while the last one, Blue was aiming at me as I ran the other direction.

A blast of energy hit the ground beside me, forcing me to keep moving. I glanced back at Chris, who seemed to be doing fine on his own, at least so far. A blast of energy hit him and knocked him back, but he’d focused his PK shell enough to keep from being seriously hurt. Unfortunately, I knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long. Neither of us could.

“Up in the air and out of reach,” I mused as I considered my opponents and how I could deal with them.

Disappearing and running away wouldn’t work this time, so I’d have to come up with something else. Then I grinned as an idea came to me.

“Ninja vanish,” I exclaimed as I threw a smoke bomb at my feet and did my normal disappearing trick.

I rolled off to the side under the cover of smoke, activating my chameleon effect as I did so. When I stopped moving, I was now so blended in that I would be effectively invisible…unless they had heat sensors or something like that in their helmets.

“Where did she go?” Blue demanded in surprise.

After a moment, he turned away and began looking around to see if he could find me. I took advantage of that to crouch down, focus my PK aura around my legs, and then launched myself into the air with a PK enhanced leap. A moment later, I hit Blue from behind and sliced through his jetpack with my PK claws. An instant later, his jetpack burst into flames and he dropped like a rock.

“CATCH,” I yelled to Chris.

Chris saw Blue falling and ran forward, focusing his own PK aura into his fist, and he punched Blue right before the bounty hunter hit the ground. Blue flew through the air again and smashed into the side of our car, leaving a massive dent.

“HENDRICKS?” Green shouted towards his companion.

Blue was slumped down beside the car, twitching and groaning but clearly no longer a threat. One down and two more to go. That meant, it was time to get back to the basics, which meant mock and distract.

“You don’t tug on Superman’s cape,” I cheerfully sang after I hit the ground and rolled back to my feet. “You don’t spit into the wind. You don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger and you don’t mess around with Imp.”

“That devil chick is dangerous,” Red snarled, firing at me and forcing me to dodge.

“Is that the best you can do?” I teased. Another shot and I dodged again. “Have you guys ever been able to hit the broadside of a barn?”

This time I leapt to the side and threw two PK enhanced throwing spikes at Red. One of them hit his leg while the other missed entirely. He yelped in pain but didn’t drop.

“I don’t care if there’s a bounty on her or not,” Red exclaimed. “I’m killing that bitch.”

“I’m with you,” Green agreed as both of them fired on me.

Chris just stood there, staring up at our opponents but not doing anything. Then again, there wasn’t anything he could do at the moment since he didn’t have any kind of ranged attack and they were both focused on me.

I snapped around and threw another spike, but it missed Green by a good distance. He and Red had both moved up a bit higher and were no longer just hovering on one spot. They were moving around, making themselves moving targets which were even harder to hit. From there, they continued firing at me, though their movement seemed to worsen their aim at the same time.

“You guys were entertaining,” I said with a smirk, “but it’s time for me to get going… Exit, stage left…”

I threw down another smoke bomb and repeated my disappearing trick. However, neither of the bounty hunters let down their guard. They continued moving around, though their attention turned to Chris who quickly scrambled out of the way.

In spite of my ‘dramatic exit’, I had absolutely no intention of going anywhere without Chris. I was just hoping for a repeat of my previous attack, where I could get one of them from behind with a surprise attack. Unfortunately, not only did they continue to move around, but Green seemed focused on looking for me, as if expecting me to pull the same kind of trick that I’d already tried.

“I hate it when my opponents learn,” I muttered in annoyance.

Since it didn’t look like my trick was going to work again, at least not the same way, I decided to try a variation on it. I launched myself up into the air as high as I could go, no longer trying to actively reach them. Instead, I waited until I was at the top of my arc, then I threw another throwing spike right at Green. I caught the edge of his jetpack, enough to put a small hole in it but not enough to do any real damage. And in return, I was out in the open as he fired at me again

Green paused for a moment, just long enough to take aim and fire right at me. I refocused my aura, creating a disk of focused PK armor about a foot across, just in time to block the blast. Then I hit the ground and rolled, having to avoid several more attacks as he was in motion again.

“These guys are hard to hit,” I admitted to Chris.

“What do you usually do?” he asked with a worried look.

“For flyers that I can’t reach?” I asked. “Mock them, then run and hide.”

“I don’t think that will do much good,” he responded with a guilty look. “I’m holding you back…”

“I’m not leaving you,” I assured me. “Sooner or later, one of them will make another mistake…”

“I…I have an idea,” Chris said, gesturing to Blue who was still clutching his rifle.

Chris ran for Blue’s weapon, but Red opened fire and hit the rifle with a blast of energy. The rifle exploded on impact, knocking Chris back and probably injuring Blue even worse.

“Well, that didn’t work,” he muttered in annoyance.

“Still a good idea,” I told him. “Now, I’m going to create a distraction so you can get away.”

“What?” he asked in surprise.

“I’ll follow along once I give them the slip,” I assured him, keeping my eyes on the bounty hunters above. “But first, you need to get away…”

“I’m not leaving you,” Chris insisted.

I rolled my eyes and reached for a couple smoke bombs. All I had left on me were two more, but that should be enough to create the distraction I needed. Maybe if I threw in a stink bomb too, though I didn’t know if those helmets included filtration systems.

But just then, there was a flash of light and Red suddenly dropped from the sky and hit the ground. Without waiting for an invitation, Chris ran forward and formed a PK blade to slice through the bounty hunter’s jetpack. That was followed up by a PK enhanced punch which sent the bounty hunter skipping along the ground.

While Chris was dealing with Red, I was watching Green, who seemed confused. He was looking around to see what happened and didn’t notice when another armor figure appeared above him and then lowered down beside him.

This new arrival wore lightweight blue and white armor, which was thin enough that it easily blended in with the rest of his costume so that it almost looked like spandex from a distance. The armor was in a completely different style from the bounty hunters, and instead of a helmet, he had a dark blue cowl that covered the top part of his head.

Without saying a word, the newcomer grabbed Green’s shoulder and then slammed Green into the ground below. He lowered down until he landed on the ground beside Green, then he held his hand out and fired a sphere of blue light at the downed bounty hunter. An instant later, Green was thrown off to the side where he slammed into the side of a nearby building.

“Getting into trouble again, Imp?” the newcomer asked.

“Who is that?” Chris gasped, gaping at the new arrival.

“That’s Chickenhawk,” I told Chris with a smirk. “He’s a superhero who was something of my archenemy before I retired.”

I’d called Ryan awhile back, letting him know about all the troubles that I’d been running into and that I’d be late getting back to Manhattan. I hadn’t told him the full story of what was going on before I left to get Chris, but I had told him enough. I’d told him that I had a son who needed help, and that was all he needed to know for the moment. The rest could wait until Chris was safe.

“That’s Superhawk,” he corrected me, though he wasn’t as offended as he once would have been. Instead, he seemed more amused. “I’ve been chasing after you for long enough, that you really should know my name by now.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I commented as my tail swished back and forth.

I looked down at my clothes, absently adjusting them though that was pointless. My entire outfit had been torn up and ruined by the fight. It would have to be thrown away. Oh, how I wished I’d been wearing my costume instead.

Chris stared at Chickenhawk with a look of awe, though it quickly turned to one of fierce determination. Then before I knew it, Chris stepped between me and Chickenhawk and flared his PK shell so he glowed with a fierce golden energy.

“I won’t let you touch her,” Chris stated, clearly ready to fight.

For a moment, Chickenhawk and I both stared at Chris in surprise, then we both laughed. I shouldn’t have been surprised since Chris was always trying to protect people, but I never would have expected him to try protecting me, and especially not against a superhero. I had to admit, I was really touched by that.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Chickenhawk started to say, still watching Chris with a look of sharp interest.

“It’s okay,” I told Chris as I stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got this…”

And with that, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my gold ‘GET OUT OF JAIL FREE’ card and held it out to Chickenhawk.

“A get out of jail free card,” Chickenhawk said as he looked it over, nodding as he did so. “Okay, you’re good to go…”

“What?” Chris gasped, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “That actually works?”

Chickenhawk grinned, obviously trying to hold back a laugh. Then he gave me a wink before flying back up into the air and leaving us behind. Chris remained there, staring up with a look of confusion.

“Okay,” I told Chris a few seconds later. “Time to get a new car and get out of here before more trouble shows up.”

--------------------

“Here we are,” I announced as we stepped into the freight elevator, and I hit the button to go up.

“And where is that?” Chris asked me with a skeptical tone.

“Why, the place where I plan all of my nefarious schemes,” I told him with a grin. “The Imp Lair.”

Chris gave me a nervous look but didn’t say anything. Instead, he straightened up and kept an eye on the indicator for the rising floor level.

We’d finally made it back to Manhattan, without any more incidents after those bounty hunters. Several times, I’d noticed Chickenhawk flying overhead, keeping an eye on us from a distance and making sure that there were no more problems. And it seemed that once he was sure that we’d made it back to Manhattan safely, he’d taken off.

When the elevator came to a stop, I announced, “Right this way…”

Chris followed me down the hall and to the door of my condo. I quickly glanced down the halls to make sure no one was around, then I opened the door so we could get inside. It was only once I had stepped across the threshold that I let out a sigh of relief and deactivated my pendant. We’d made it home.

“This is,” Chris said as he looked around in surprise, “not what I imagined.”

I chuckled at that, and I probably always would whenever a new visitor had that same reaction. Not that I really had many visitors, but so far all of them reacted much the same.

“What?” I asked with a smirk. “Were you expecting a funhouse with death traps and a giant painting of myself sitting over the fireplace?”

Chris hesitated for a moment before admitting, “Well… Kind of.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I responded with a grin. “But, I don’t have any henchmen to impress, and the only heroes who ever come here aren’t here to fight. No, this is just my home. And I guess now, it’s yours too.”

Chris looked around the main living area, his eyes darting from place to place. He stared at the classic artworks that hung on the wall, then paused at a framed cell from a classic cartoon that I absolutely loved.

“What’s this?” Chris asked, indicating a small display stand that was a recent addition to my bookshelf.

“A lump of coal,” I answered with a grin. “Given to me this Christmas by Santa himself.”

His eyes widened but he didn’t take the bait. I was sure that he would have denied Santa’s existence at the very least.

“Come on,” I told him as I gestured for the hallway. “This here is my guest bedroom… Well, it was. Now, it’s yours.”

“You have a guest bedroom?” Chris asked me in surprise, probably having a hard time believing that I’d ever have guests.

“A couple of your classmates have used it,” I told him with a shrug. “Unusual circumstances and the like.”

He gave me a look of surprise. “Really?”

I just nodded at that, then gestured to the other doorways. “My room. The bathroom. And that one is my art studio. You can take a look, but please be careful in there.”

With that, I went back to the living room, leaving Chris to get settled into his new room. It was strange having a visitor again. No, not a visitor. He was going to be living with me now, when he wasn’t at Whateley. I felt a mixture of grief and excitement over the prospect, as I was happy to have him back but felt absolutely horrible for the reason why.

A few seconds later, I poured myself a glass of wine and took a sip, which helped me to relax even more. It had been a very long and tiring day, both physically and emotionally. So many things had happened since we woke up in Rochester, that it almost felt like it all should have happened over a week rather than during a single day.

“I’ll order a pizza for dinner,” I called out to Chris.

I had a feeling that after dinner, we’d both be hitting the bed early and sleeping pretty hard. But first, before pizza and bed, I really REALLY needed a long HOT bath and some clean clothes.

Manhattan NY, Monday morning, Dec 31st 2007

“Good morning,” I greeted Chris as he staggered into the room, still groggy and half asleep. I was sitting at the table, wearing pajamas while I sipped my coffee and looked over some of my plans for winter term classes. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” he answered in a tone that indicated that his sleep was anything but.

“Do you want something to eat?” I asked as I got up and went to the kitchen. He nodded half-heartedly as he took a seat at the table. A minute later, I set a bowl of cereal in front of him.

“Cocoa Puffs?” he asked.

I just shrugged and admitted, “I’m domestically challenged. I don’t usually make anything more complicated than this.”

Chris stared at me for a moment before shaking his head and turning his attention to breakfast. I could imagine what he was thinking, maybe about how Suzie Q used to cook real breakfasts or something.

“When I’m feeling real fancy, I can get a bit better,” I told him with a grin, a chuckle, and a swish of my tail. “Leggo my Eggo.”

He took a big bite of cereal, then pointed out, “You have pajamas that look like your uniform?”

I glanced down at my red and black pajamas. “They’re both comfortable and stylish.”

“Why would you custom make pajamas like that?” he asked blankly.

“Why wouldn’t you?” I responded with perfect logic.

Then I grinned, realizing that I was now in a position to one day use the phrase ‘because I said so,’ or maybe even ‘I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it.’ There were some unexpected benefits to taking Chris in like this.

I slipped back into my chair and took another sip of coffee, noticing that while Chris ate, his eyes were on my pendant, which I’d left in the middle of the table. He had a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I think I used up a lot of its charge over the last couple days,” I explained with a shrug. “I’ll have to be careful with it until I can get back to Whately and pay Grimes or Chulkris to recharge it for me.”

“How does it work?” Chris asked curiously.

“Minor cosmetic illusion, or so I’ve been told,” I explained with a shrug. “I got it in exchange for a job, about two years ago. It doesn’t change my whole appearance, just my GSD. It hides that and makes me look like I would if I didn’t have GSD.”

“So, that was what you’d really look like,” he mused.

“Pretty much,” I agreed. “Kind of boring compared to this fabulousness….” I gestured towards myself and grinned.

Chris gave a wry smile as though humoring me. “I bet something like that would be really useful for...some of my friends.”

“Like Darqueheart?” I asked.

He blushed at that but nodded. “Yeah. And Monkeywrench.”

I smirked at his reaction but decided not to say anything about it. I’d have plenty of time to tease him about girls he liked later on. Besides, I liked Darqueheart. She reminded me a bit of myself, but without my amazing sense of humor.

“She’s a finger wiggler,” I pointed out. “Sooner or later, she’ll probably figure out how to make one of her own, or maybe she’ll learn some kind of illusion spell. Honestly, I don’t know enough about how her magic works to know for sure. What I do know, is that there are a lot of your classmates who could benefit from this kind of thing, and there are a number of ways to do it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Like I said,” I told him, gesturing towards my pendant. “You’ve got magic items and spells. There are gadgets and devises that can do wonders with holograms. And there’s one kid at the school, Greasy, who makes this amazing fake skin and some really impressive masks.”

“I’ve heard about him,” Chris said with a disapproving look, probably due to the other boy’s reputation.

“Incognito does some fine work that way too,” I added almost as an afterthought.”

“Yeah,” Chris responded with a nod of agreement.

“There are lots of camouflage tricks that people with GSD can use to avoid drawing too much attention,” I continued. “It’s easier for some than for others.” Then I chuckled and admitted, “For most of my life, I’ve had to make do with Groucho Marx glasses.”

Chris gave me a skeptical look, but I just shrugged in response. After all, while that may not have been completely accurate, it was close enough to the truth that I didn’t bother correcting it.

“That sounds…tough,” Chris said, giving me a curious look. “I mean, looking so different.”

“It is what it is,” I responded with another shrug before changing the subject. “Now then, what should we do for the day? Most of my DVDs are in my apartment at Whateley, but I still have a few movies and cartoons here we can watch…”

--------------------

I stepped back and looked over my work, taking mental notes of what I still needed to adjust before I really moved forward. The outline on my canvas was coming along nicely, but the painting still had a long way to go before it was done.

“That should do it for now,” I mused, deciding to take a break.

After cleaning up and putting my tools away, I left my work room and went to the living room where Chris was sitting on the couch in the exact same place where he’d been the last time I checked on him. It was mid-afternoon and Chris had been there for half the day.

At another time, I might have thought that he was just moping, but I knew better than that. Chris was depressed and with damn good reason. He’d lost nearly everything, and his entire life had been upended. And on top of that, he was probably dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt at the same time. I was no expert on those things, but thought that it might not be a bad idea for him to get some kind of therapy or counselling once we got back to Whateley.

My heart ached for the boy, and I wished that there was something I could do to help. Unfortunately, learning that I was his birth mother was probably one of the issues that he was now dealing with. Maybe I could distract him from his grief since I was practically an expert when it came to distracting people, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t be enough.

“He needs someone to talk to,” I mused to myself. “Someone he trusts.” Then I paused as an idea came to me. “A friend.”

“Come on, Chris,” I told him a few seconds later. “Grab your jacket because we’re heading out.”

“What?” he asked, giving me a blank look.

“I’m feeling cooped up in here,” I said, “and we’re going to need dinner anyway.” Then, just in case he was worried about it, I added, “And we won’t be driving this time.” Of course, I didn’t mention that I’d already left the car I’d ‘borrowed’ in a place where it would be found in a day or two.

Chris grumbled a little under his breath but didn’t look like he had the energy to actually argue with me. That was too bad, because getting him riled up might have been a nice distraction. In fact, I was tempted to do just that, though I shook it off. Maybe later.

I put my pendant back on but didn’t activate it. Since it was low on power and I didn’t want to waste it, I slipped on an older style disguise instead, one that wasn’t nearly as good, but which had worked well enough for me for years.

Chris watched curiously as I slipped on a long overcoat which helped to hide my tail, then went on the oversized sunglasses which covered up my slitted yellow eyes and the tiny black scales that covered my cheeks, forehead, and the bridge of my nose. And last but not least went the wide-brimmed hat, which helped to further hide my scales along with my horns and pointed ears.

This wasn’t a perfect disguise, but in New York, most people didn’t pay enough attention to random strangers on the street to notice my more eccentric features. In fact, this kind of disguise worked surprisingly well, even for some people with a little more extreme GSD.

“What about your illusion?” Chris asked.

“I’m saving the remaining power until I really need it,” I explained as I adjusted the brim of my hat. “This should work well enough for the moment.” I gave him a wry smile. “It’s how I used to get around before I had the pendant.”

After this, we left my condo and hit the streets. Chris followed without question as we took a short subway ride and then a brief walk. It didn’t take too long to reach our destination.

“What are we doing here?” Chris asked as he looked around the new condo building. “I thought we were going to get dinner.”

“We are,” I responded with a grin. “My boyfriend makes a pretty good lasagna, and he invited me over for New Years Eve dinner with him and his daughter. They won’t mind one more.”

Chris gave me a look of surprise, maybe over the fact that we were going to have a homemade meal for dinner instead of at a restaurant. After all, there was no way he could be surprised that someone as beautiful, talented, and fabulous as me had a boyfriend. If anything, he should be surprised that I didn’t have dozens of men throwing themselves at me.

“Are you sure?” Chris asked awkwardly.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” I assured him with a mischievous grin. “And I’m sure you’ll get along with his daughter just fine.”

I was still grinning as I rang the doorbell, and a few seconds later, Melissa opened the door. She took one look at me and immediately burst into a wide grin.

“IMP,” Melissa exclaimed, practically dragging me inside. “Dad said you have a new son, and that he’s my age, and that you might bring him over. Why didn’t you tell me? Can I meet him?”

“You’ve already met him,” I responded as I stepped aside and revealed Chris, who’d been right behind me.

Chris and Melissa stared at each other in surprise, though it took several seconds before a look of recognition passed over her face. “CHRIS?” she blurted out in confusion. “What happened to your hair?”

He self-consciously ran a hand over the stubble on his head before mumbling, “It seemed like a good idea at the time…” Then he gave her a curious look and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she answered with a roll of her eyes. “What are you…?” Then she paused to look at me, her mouth dropping open. “Are YOU Imp’s new kid?”

“Sorta,” he muttered awkwardly as he glanced at me.

“I gave him up for adoption when he was born,” I explained, deciding to cut things short. “A couple weeks ago, I figured out who he was. Then a few days ago, well…” I glanced at Chris, who was staring at the floor. “Well, something pretty bad happened and I took him in.”

Just then, Ryan stepped into view and looked Chris over. “I hope to hear the full story.”

I let out a long sigh at that, then gave a nod. Then, I removed my disguise and set my hat and coat aside before I went over to greet Ryan properly, with a hug, a kiss, and a goose of his butt cheek.

“Okay,” I said once we were done with the greeting. I looked to Chris and gestured at Ryan. “As you might have guessed, this is my boyfriend Ryan, who happens to be Melissa’s dad.” Then I looked at Ryan and gestured at Chris. “And this is Chris.”

“I think we met before,” Chris said awkwardly. “A couple months ago in Boston…”

Ryan gave Chris a curious look but nodded. “With that whole Adamant and Lamplighter situation.”

“Um, yeah,” Chris admitted self-consciously.

“I don’t think I would have recognized you,” Ryan said with a thoughtful look. “You look a bit different.”

“Yeah,” Chris muttered, self-consciously running a hand over his head again.

“But we also met yesterday,” Ryan added a few seconds later, chuckling at the look of confusion on Chris’ face.

Then Chris’ eyes went wide in realization, “You’re that Chickenhawk guy…”

Melissa burst out laughing at that while Ryan looked vaguely amused. “Actually, it’s Superhawk, but I can understand your confusion. Christine is notoriously bad at remembering people’s names.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Most people just have boring names. The ones I give them are more interesting.”

“But, you’re a hero,” Chris said, looking confused again. He looked at me and added, “I thought you said he was your archenemy…”

“He was,” I agreed with a grin. “Before I retired.”

“It took a few years,” Ryan added as he put an arm round my shoulders, “but I finally caught her.”

“C’mon,” Melissa said as she grabbed Chris’ arm and practically dragged him away. “I’ll show you my room…”

Once the two of them were gone, I dropped the grin and let out a sigh. Then I looked at Ryan and said, “I guess I have a lot to tell you…”

--------------------

Manhattan NY, Monday later afternoon, Dec 31st 2007

Chris was still reeling a bit while Melissa pulled him into her bedroom.

“This is my room,” she proudly announced. “Or as I like to think of it…the Mischief Lair.”

With that, Chris blinked and looked around. It was a pretty normal looking bedroom, though a bit messy. And since Melissa had been away at Whateley for months, he suspected that most of this mess had come about in the last week or so since she’d been home.

Chris noted that there were a lot of stuffed animals spread around the room, with a good dozen of them being on the bed. On top of the dresser, he saw a pair of plastic devil horns, the kind that looked like they were part of a Halloween costume. However, there was one item in the room that stood out as being a bit out of place.

“That painting,” Chris said, gesturing to a painting that hung on the wall.

The painting was of a cat who was chasing a mouse while the mouse was blowing a raspberry back at the cat. It was whimsical and cartoonish, exactly what he would have expected to see in Melissa’s room, but at the same time, it looked like a really nice quality painting, not some cheap poster like he would have expected.

“It’s a Candice Kade original,” Melissa bragged. “She gave it to me on my last birthday…”

“Candice Kade?” Chris asked, now staring at the painting with new interest. He didn’t know much about art or painting, but it looked professional to him. “Imp painted this...?” Then realizing that he was giving away her real name, which she’d trusted him with, he quickly tried to cover it up, “I mean…”

“She told you?” Melissa asked in surprise. Then she gave Chris a thoughtful look. “Oh yeah, if she’s really your mom, then of course she’d tell you…”

Chris stared at Melissa for a moment before awkwardly nodding. “Yeah… She told me, but I didn’t know she could paint like this…”

Melissa giggled at that. “She’s an awesome artist…”

“I thought she was just an art thief,” he responded.

Melissa emphatically shook her head. “No way. Candice Kade is kind of famous as an artist… I mean, she does art shows, and they make puzzles based off some of her paintings...”

“Really?” Chris asked, a little surprised.

“Oh yeah,” Melissa assured him with a broad grin. “And she ALWAYS hides stuff in her paintings. She’s totally famous for it…”

With that, Melissa carefully pulled the painting off the wall and turned it sideways. It was only then that Chris noticed that some of the shadows and background formed new shapes, silhouettes that looked like a woman with horns standing beside a smaller girl who also had horns.

“Wow,” Chris said.

Melissa practically beamed as she explained, “This is a picture of when Imp and I met for the very first time…. And she painted this just for ME.”

Chris stared at the painting even more intently, feeling a bit impressed. It was no wonder that Melissa looked up to the Imp so much. And from this painting, it was obvious that his birth mother really cared about Melissa as well.

“So,” Melissa said after a few long seconds. “She really is your mom, isn’t she? I mean, I’m a little confused, because I thought you had other parents…”

“I only just found out the other day,” Chris admitted, still not sure of what to think about this revelation. He looked at Melissa, then quietly asked, “You know how I was adopted…?”

“Yeah,” she agreed as she sat down on the edge of her bed. “You mentioned that a couple times…”

“Well, a couple days ago,” he continued in a near whisper, choking a bit as the words didn’t want to come, “we were in a car accident and…”

Melissa listened with a look of growing horror and then sympathy, especially once Chris’ tears began to flow. And once Chris was done talking, she just grabbed him in a firm hug.

--------------------

Manhattan NY, Monday evening, Dec 31st 2007

Everyone sat around the dinner table, enjoying Ryan’s lasagna and the salad he’d made to go with it. His sister Brandy had arrived right before dinner, so we were still in the process of explaining Chris’ presence.

“Chris is one of my friends at school,” Melissa told her aunt. “And we’re even on the same training team, but I didn’t know Imp was his mom until today.”

“I didn’t know until a couple days ago,” Chris responded.

I cheerfully added, “And I didn’t know until a couple weeks ago.”

Brandy looked back and forth between us before demanding of me, “How can you NOT know?”

“Apparently,” Ryan said as he decided to join the conversation. “Christine gave him up for adoption after he was born, and certain circumstances resulted in her discovering him again at Whateley.”

“Pretty much,” I agreed.

Chris squirmed a bit uncomfortably in his seat, obviously not wanting to talk about his current situation at the moment. He looked to Brandy and asked, “So, what do you do for a living?”

Brandy sort of puffed and preened a bit as she proudly answered, “I’m a superhero.”

“Really?” Chris asked, his eyes widening a bit. He looked back and forth between her and Ryan, clearly impressed by the fact that he was eating dinner with not one but two superheroes.

“Professionally,” Brandy explained, “I go by the name of Brandywine, and I’m with the Shielders over in Jersey.”

“She gets their equipment from Acme,” I mock whispered to Chris, earning a glare from Brandy in the process.

“Chris wants to be a hero too,” Melissa exclaimed while Chris slumped down self-consciously.

Ryan chuckled at that and told his sister, “The first time I met him, about two months ago in Boston, he was trying to take down Adamant…by himself.”

“Adamant?” Brandy blurted out in surprise. “It takes my whole team to even slow him down.”

“Chris has a lot of guts,” I admitted wryly. “Not always the most sense when it comes to picking opponents, but he definitely has the courage part down.”

Ryan snorted. “When I ran into them yesterday, Chris tried to protect Christine from me.”

“Just let me die,” Chris muttered as he slumped down even further into his chair.

“Hey,” Melissa protested as she jumped to Chris’ defense. “You should have seen him when we fought those Triangle jerks… He was totally protecting Darqueheart and everyone else…”

“The Triangle?” Brandy said, giving Chris a look of greater interest. “This I have to hear…” Then she paused and began smirking for a moment before she finally burst out laughing.

“What?” Chris asked, looking as though he was about to be offended.

Brandy just looked at me and mused, “YOU have a son who wants to be a superhero...”

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. “Trust me, I am well aware of the irony…”

Brandy burst out laughing again while Ryan chuckled as well. “Oh, this is rich,” she said before turning to Ryan. “Maybe we should give him a few lessons… It seems only fair.” Her eyes darted to Melissa while Chris sat up straighter, looking more interested.

The conversation continued, with Ryan and Brandy both promising to give Chris a few pointers. I was pretty sure that Brandy offered mostly to mess with me, though she probably thought that helping out one of Melissa’s friends was a nice bonus as well.

“Well, you could do worse than Chickenhawk,” I told Chris as I gave my approval.

“Thank you,” Chris told the two heroes. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Brandy gave me a look of annoyance, probably because I hadn’t included any praise for her. Ryan just looked amused.

“From you,” Ryan told me with a chuckle, “that is high praise indeed.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I teased him with a grin of my own.

After we finished eating, everyone migrated to the living room. Chris paused and just stood there, silently staring at a painting on the wall. It was one of my paintings, one that Ryan had bought from a gallery before we’d ever gotten together.

Brandy noticed the way Chris was looking at my painting and stepped up beside him. “I think that is by a local artist named Candice Kade,” she explained, looking to Ryan for confirmation. “She’s one of Ryan’s favorite artists.”

“She is,” Ryan agreed with an amused look.

“And I think Melissa has one of her paintings too,” Brandy added.

“It’s…interesting,” Chris said, giving me a curious look.

“Definitely,” I agreed with a nod. Melissa was trying to hold back a giggle.

“You know,” Brandy mused, looking at another painting which had recently been hung on another wall. “The style actually looks pretty similar to the one you gave Ryan for Christmas…” She was looking directly at me now.

“You think so?” I asked in a casual tone.

Brandy stood there for a moment with a thoughtful expression before blurting out, “Oh, I get it…”

“You do?” I asked in the same casual tone.

The heroine nodded at that and looked quite pleased with herself as she stated, “You copied her style when you painted that one….” She gestured to the Christmas present. “You knew Ryan liked her work, and you are an art forger after all.”

“Something like that,” I responded pleasantly, trying hard not to laugh.

Melissa stood back behind her hands clamped over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. That wasn’t very subtle, but Brandy wasn’t looking at her niece and didn’t see.

--------------------

Manhattan NY, Monday evening, Dec 31st 2007

Chris stood on the outside balcony, chilled from the cold air but appreciating the chance to have a moment to himself. Dinner had been good, but the whole evening had been just a little overwhelming. Sure, there were only two people whom he didn’t know, and Melissa had been by his side almost the entire time, but still…

A minute later, the patio door opened and Ryan stepped out to join him. Melissa’s dad didn’t say a word as he leaned against the balcony railing and just looked out.

“It is a little much, isn’t it,” Ryan finally said, his voice low. “I can’t even imagine everything that you’re dealing with right now.”

Chris hesitated a moment before admitting, “Yeah… It’s all hard to wrap my head around everything… I mean, one day the Imp is my teacher, and the next, it turns out she’s my birth mother.” He shook his head at that.

“She can be a little much to deal with at times,” Ryan agreed. “And I can relate, at least a little. One day the Imp was my enemy, and the next…” He chuckled at that.

“How did that even happen?” Chris asked, giving Ryan a confused look. “I mean, you’re a hero and she’s…. Well…”

“She’s the Imp,” Ryan agreed with another chuckle. He was silent for a moment before saying, “Actually, it’s all due to Melissa…”

“Really?” Chris asked.

Ryan nodded, staring off into the distance as he explained, “The Imp and I were enemies for many years…and we fought quite a few times. Well, if you can really call it fighting when she’d just mock me, then run off and slip away as though it was the easiest thing in the world…” He shook his head and admitted, “Every single time I ran into her, it ended in immense frustration for me, but at the same time, I looked forward to encountering her again. Each time I ran into her, it was the highpoint of my day.”

Chris gave him a blank look. “I get the frustrating part… I’ve fought her in training…” He shuddered at the memory.

“I spent years trying to catch her,” Ryan continued after Chris a nod of acknowledgement, “and the only reason I finally caught her was because she let me.”

“You said it was because of Melissa?” Chris said.

“Yes,” Ryan agreed with a faint smile. “Unknown to me at the time, she was sneaking out and befriending the Imp. After all those years, my daughter did the one thing I was never able to…track down the Imp.”

Chris burst out laughing at that. “Imp said Melissa is a trouble magnet…” Then he paused before admitting, “Well, she said we ALL were.”

“You have no idea,” Ryan muttered before his expression turned grim. “One day, Melissa got herself kidnapped by a supervillain, and that was the day the Imp dropped her mask for me.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked.

Ryan let out a sigh. “She offered to help me save Melissa…and to prove that she was serious…to convince me to let her help…she let me see behind the curtain. She revealed some of her most important secrets, the ones that had helped her to escape me time after time. She effectively ended her own supervillain career just to earn my trust.”

“Really?” Chris asked in surprise.

Melissa’s dad merely nodded at that before he continued. “While we worked together, I saw more of the woman behind the mask. I learned that she wasn’t just the impulsive and reckless prankster that I thought. She was kind, and clever, and passionate about art in a way that I’d never realized.” He shook his head. “Before we were done, I’d started to fall for her.”

“But she hates superheroes,” Chris pointed out uncertainly. “Doesn’t she?”

“Well, she does mock just about every hero she meets,” Ryan admitted. “And most villains too. In fact, I think the only hero that I’ve ever heard her talking to or about without mocking them… was Doctor Miracle.”

“Doctor Miracle,” Chris mused, trying to remember what he’d heard about the hero. He remembered that Doctor Miracle was one of those old school heroes, one who hadn’t been active in a long time. However, he didn’t really know much more about him than his name.

“Christine doesn’t really hate superheroes,” Ryan told Chris, looking him in the eyes. “The truth is, I think that she just has high standards for what she considers to be a real superhero, and most heroes don’t meet her standards. I think… she considers those heroes to be fakes or impostors, which is part of the reason she mocks them so hard.”

“What about you?” Chris asked, a little surprised by Ryan’s words. “Do you meet her standards?”

The older man hesitated for a moment before admitting, “I haven’t always, but I like to think that I do now. At least, I’m always trying to be a better hero than I used to be.” He shook his head and admitted, “My perspective on things has changed since I saw behind her mask.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked.

Ryan stared out into the distance again before explaining, “I used to think that heroes were the good guys and villains were the bad guys. Most of the time, that is true, but not always. That was before I met a so-called hero who liked to kidnap children and brainwash them into being his puppets. That was before I met a villainess who risked her life to save an innocent girl.” He turned to Chris and gave him a wry smile. “I learned that things aren’t always that black and white… and that you need to judge someone by their actions, not whatever title people call them by.”

Chris didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he stared off into the distance as he thought over what Ryan had told him. That sounded a lot like some of the things that the Imp had told him in the past…and some of the things that he’d seen for himself. He had definitely met some heroes who hardly deserved to be called that.

“You know,” Ryan mused aloud. “Christine would deny it if I ever suggested this in her hearing… In fact, she’d probably even be offended. But the truth is, I think that if things had been just a little different for her…that she could have become a hero herself.”

That made Chris snort. “Yeah, she’d definitely be offended by that.”

They both chuckled, then just stood in silence for another minute. Chris’ mind was still occupied with what Ryan had told him.

“Christine told me why she gave you up,” Ryan finally said, his voice once again low and gentle. “And it sounds like she had some very good reasons for doing so… But in spite of that, I know she’s regretted it ever since…”

“Sure,” Chris responded with a skeptical snort.

Ryan let out a sigh. “I don’t know all the details, but I get the feeling that this is a weight that she’s been carrying for a long time. And when she got the call that you were in trouble…that you needed help…” He turned and looked Chris in the eyes again. “She was in tears… That woman, the professional thief and supervillain…was crying over worry for you.”

Chris stared at Ryan, unable to even imagine the Imp crying, much less over him. The very idea that she might be crying over him was unbelievable, yet it hit him almost like a physical blow.

“Christine is a complicated woman,” Ryan told Chris, putting a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “And I think that for most of her life, she has been a very lonely one. She might not tell you this, but she’s terrified that you’re going to reject her.”

“But,” Chris started in a whisper, unsure of what to say to that, or even what to think about it.

Ryan gave Chris a reassuring smile and turned to head back inside, though he paused at the door to look back at Chris. “Please, give her a chance…” A moment later, Chris was left alone on the balcony with his thoughts.

--------------------

Manhattan NY, Wednesday afternoon, Jan 2nd 2008

I leapt from one rooftop to the next, grinning broadly as I did so. At that moment, I was in my costume, out stretching my legs a bit, and getting some fresh air.

“Too bad I can’t do this kind of thing at Whateley,” I mused aloud.

Unfortunately, Whateley wasn’t built for this kind of a run, in spite of everything the Parkour Hooligans did to keep their runs exciting. For one, the buildings were too far apart to really jump between, and for another, they were too short, at least compared to many of the buildings I was used to in Manhattan.

As I continued with my bit of exercise, I thought about Chris, who was currently off with Melissa. The two of them were spending the afternoon together, doing a bit of shopping to replace a few things that Chris lost during all the chaos. And later on, Ryan said that he’d give Chris a bit of a lesson about being a superhero.

I was amused by the idea of my son and boyfriend spending time together. Hell, I was amazed by the very idea that I had either a son or a boyfriend. Not too long ago, having either of those things in my life seemed an impossible dream, so the fact that I now had BOTH…

Just then, I spotted something on the street below that brought me to a complete stop. I crouched down and peered down over the edge of the building to get a better look, only to confirm what I was seeing.

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s aunt,” I exclaimed in surprise.

My thoughts immediately went to Monkeywrench and how he’d probably get a kick out of that expression. And while I knew that he wasn’t Danny Boy’s kid, I couldn’t help but imagine how entertaining things would be if he had actually been my nephew. That would certainly have made Shenanigans an even more interesting team.

Down on the street below, there was a man in a blue and white costume. Another one. It seemed that I kept running into people in blue and white costumes lately. He wore a grey metal helmet with large ram horns that curved and spiraled around from the side. I knew that costume, or at least that helmet, though it had been a few years since I’d last seen it.

“Ram the third,” I loudly exclaimed as I dropped down over the edge of the building, catching myself on a ledge about halfway down and then clinging to it.

The young hero, who I assumed was calling himself the Ram since he was wearing the same magic helmet that had been worn by the previous Rams, looked around in surprise before finally looking up. Once he saw me, his entire posture shifted, and he glared up at me.

“The third and latest entry in the Ram trilogy,” I commented with a smirk, thinking that this was a great opportunity to amuse myself. But then I paused, suddenly wondering if that was really the direction I wanted to go when there was an even greater opportunity to be had.

“I know who you are,” the Ram exclaimed, pointing right at me. “You must be the Imp. I’ve heard about you from my predecessors.”

“I know who you are too, Martin,” I said, keeping my voice low enough so that it didn’t carry far.

The Ram froze and let out a gasp of surprise at the use of his real name. “How…?”

“I found out your grandfather’s identity a few decades ago,” I answered, keeping my tone conversational rather than mocking. “I know all about your family, including your dad, who wore that helmet before you.” Then, before he could give the usual threats, I held up a hand and assured him, “I’ve never shared that secret or used it against your predecessors before, and I have absolutely no intention of doing so now. I just wanted to get your attention.”

“And you have it,” the Ram responded, looking like he was ready to try attacking me, which was one of the reasons that I was remaining out of his reach. “And you are going to regret that when I take you in.”

I laughed at that, more than a little tempted to take the bait and start mocking him. This was an old game, one that I’d played with countless heroes before, including his father and grandfather. However, this time I held myself back.

“Take me in for what?” I asked him, allowing a little of my amusement to show, though not too much of it. “I’m not committing any crimes and there are currently no warrants out for me. If you attack me now, it’s without cause…which would make it assault with a superpower. And I may be wrong, I believe that is classified as a crime.”

The young hero froze at that and glared at me, clearly trying to think of a good response. However, the fact that he was thinking rather than attacking first was actually a good sign.

“You know,” I mused aloud. “That actually wouldn’t have stopped your grandfather…”

“You don’t know anything about my grandpa,” the Ram snarled in response.

I looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. “I ran into him about a dozen times over the years,” I pointed out in an almost cheerful tone. “But did you know that the very first time I met your grandpa…I wasn’t a supervillain. Hell, I wasn’t even a criminal back then. The first time I met him, I was just a homeless teenager who was panhandling for a little change so I could get something to eat.”

“What?” the Ram asked in surprise and a bit of confusion. He had probably been expecting my usual routine of mockery and escape, and the fact that I wasn’t following my normal script was throwing him off. “What are you talking about?”

“The first time your grandfather saw me,” I continued, still keeping my tone conversational, “he saw these…” I tapped my horns and gave him a wry grin, “and decided that I just HAD to be some kind of evil monster…and he attacked me. There was no real reason for it, besides the way I looked.”

“You’re making that up to smear his legacy,” the Ram accused, but the hitch in his voice and the slight hesitation let me know that he didn’t quite believe that himself.

“I ran away from him,” I said. “I mean, I was a teenage girl who was being chased by a superhero…so of course I ran. And you know who saved me from your grandfather?” I gave a dramatic pause before answering my own question. “It was a professional thief who took pity on me. He took me in, gave me my name, and even taught me my trade. In fact, if it hadn’t been for your grandfather attacking a poor kid, I never would have become the Imp much less a supervillain.” Then I gave the Ram an evil grin and added, “The next time you see your grandpa, tell him ‘thank you’ for me, because I owe my entire supervillain career to him.”

The Ram gave me a look of shock and horror, though he quickly snapped back and exclaimed, “My grandfather was a hero…”

I responded with a loud dismissive snort. “Hardly. Your grandfather was a cheap thug who liked to beat up people, and to make himself feel good about it and actually get praised for his actions, he called himself a superhero.”

This time, the Ram looked almost like I’d physically slapped him. He snarled, shifting into a more aggressive stance again, though he was far enough away that I didn’t have any fear of him attacking me, at least not effectively.

“Then there was your father,” I said, shifting the focus of our conversation just a little. “He might not have been the Ram for long, less than a year, and he didn’t actually accomplish much…but he was still a better hero than your grandfather.”

“What?” the Ram blurted out, seemingly surprised by those words. Probably because his dad had never lived up to his grandfather’s expectations.

“He quit being a hero to focus on his family,” I explained. “He knew what was important and he acted on it. I have to respect that.”

“What are you playing at?” the young hero demanded, once again looking confused by my comments. “What’s your game?”

I stared at the Ram for a moment, knowing that he wasn’t much older than Chris. This rookie hero was barely old enough to vote, which was one of the main reasons I was taking a different tactic with him than I normally would have.

“No game,” I answered honestly. “Not this time.”

“Then why are you doing this?” he asked. “I’ve heard stories about you, but I’ve never heard about you talking like this…”

“You can think of it as a New Years resolution,” I explained with a shrug. “Or maybe, I just want to try something different for once.”

“And why am I the lucky one?” he asked sarcastically.

“Because I’m curious,” I told him in a pleasant tone. “I wanted to see what kind of a hero you’re going to become. Are you going to follow your grandfather’s path? Your father’s? Or are you going to make your own.”

“Come on down here,” the young hero said, more as if going through the motions than as if he was truly challenging me. “I’ll show you what kind of a hero I am.”

“What kind of a hero are you going to be,” I mused aloud, straightening up on the ledge as I did so. “Do you just want to call yourself a superhero, or do you want to really be one?” Then, I popped a smoke bomb and covered myself with the smoke, activating my chameleon field as I did so and vanishing from view.

Once the smoke cleared, the Ram looked around but didn’t see me. “Where did you go?” he demanded, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I remained where I was, hidden from view and silently watching him until he eventually wandered away.

This whole encounter had been an unexpected opportunity, one that I never would have recognized if it hadn’t been for my experience teaching at Whatley. This had been an opportunity to teach a valuable lesson, to influence a rookie hero so that he might not repeat the mistakes of his predecessors. But whether that actually worked or not…

“I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see,” I mused aloud as I began heading for home.

--------------------

Manhattan NY, Friday late morning, Jan 4th 2008

“That should do it,” I said as I looked over my bags, which I’d just finished packing for my trip back to Whateley.

Classes started again on Monday, and as a teacher, I had to get back a couple days early so that I could get everything set up in time. Unfortunately, that meant that my winter break was cut a little short, and by extension, so was Chris’.

“Are you about ready?” I asked Chris.

“Yeah,” Chris responded, gesturing to his bags which were already packed and waiting by the door. He had more things now than when he’d arrived, thanks in large part to his shopping trip with Melissa. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” I said with a nod. “We’ll have lunch with Ryan and Melissa, then we’ll head back to the school.”

Chris perked up slightly. “Is Melissa traveling with us?”

“Yep,” I answered with a chuckle. He seemed relieved at that, maybe because it meant that he wouldn’t be traveling with only me again. Our last trip hadn’t been exactly smooth. “We’ll be getting back to Whately this evening.”

Chris stared down at his bags, then let out a sigh. “Going back to school is going to be so weird after everything…” He shook his head at that. “Everything has changed.”

“Well, Chris,” I told him with a wry smile, “About the school… I’m afraid that I have some good news and bad news for you.”

He gave me a worried look. “What is it?”

“The good news is that you are now eligible for membership in an exclusive campus club,” I said with a chuckle. “The bad news is that it’s the Bad Seeds."

Chris groaned at that. “I’ll never live that down…”

I nodded my agreement, knowing exactly what he meant. Earlier in the year, he’d been rather vocal about his opinion on villains…and on the children of villains being villains themselves. He’d earned some hard feelings among that club, and among a number of other students who’d jump on the chance to mess with him.

“You don’t have to tell anyone that you’re related to me,” I assured him, knowing that it would probably be even worse for him if word got out that he was a teacher’s kid…much less MY kid. “I’ll keep it quiet on my end, at least as much as possible. There are few people in admin and security who know about our relationship now, but they aren’t the types to be spreading that around either.”

“Okay,” he muttered, looking relieved.

“Now, I’m thinking pizza for lunch,” I announced, deciding that we needed a change of topic to something a little less serious. “It’s going to be awhile before you get real New York pizza again, so it seems like a good sendoff lunch.”

Chris merely nodded, though he stood there with a distant expression, as though he was lost in thought. Then, just when I thought he wasn’t going to respond at all, he abruptly asked, “Why did you give me up?”

I froze at the question, even though I knew it was bound to come up sooner or later. We’d talked about it before, but only in vague details. At the time, Chris had been so shocked to learn that I was his mother that he hadn’t really wanted to know much more.

My first impulse was to respond with some snappy banter, a bit of a joke to lighten the mood and maybe even distract him away from that topic. However, he deserved an answer to that particular question.

For several long seconds, I just stood there in silence, unsure of what to say or how I could explain things. But then, I began to speak, almost before I’d even realized that I was doing so.

“You know what I did for my old career,” I said quietly.

Chris stared at me, nodding as he did so. “You… You probably didn’t want a kid getting in the way.”

“I was going to quit,” I told him with a sigh. “When I found out I was pregnant, I stopped pulling jobs. I figured, I had enough money saved up to last a couple years, so I could lay low and live a quiet life with you…”

“Then, what changed?” Chris asked, looking uncertain.

“I… I received a very painful reminder that things didn’t work like that for people like me,” I answered with a wince at the memory. My voice cracked a little as I explained, “I had too many enemies, people who wouldn’t let me just retire and disappear. At that time, I had a price on my head, so there were hitmen actively hunting me down…”

I didn’t mention Barney and the key role that he’d played in this decision. I didn’t want to burden Chris with that specific bit of information.

My eyes were tearing up, but I was definitely not crying. Nope, not at all. Not a single tear ran down my cheek, so I didn’t wipe them away with my sleeve.

“All that I could think of, was that you were going to be killed,” I explained in a whisper, unable to look at Chris as I spoke. “Or orphaned. Even with the best outcome, there was no way I could give you any kind of safe and secure childhood. So, I gave you to someone who could. I gave you to the one person I trusted to be the mother that I couldn’t be.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes again, though I didn’t say anything else. It had been hard enough just getting that much out to him. It was one thing to be witty and eloquent in a fight, or to someone I was mocking, and quite another to even say two words in a situation like this.

There was an awkward silence before Chris abruptly gave me an even more awkward hug. I hesitated a moment before hugging him back, experiencing something that I’d thought I’d lost forever…the chance to actually hold my own baby.

Once Chris pulled away, he self-consciously muttered, “I’m not going to call you mom.”

“I don’t expect you to,” I told him with a weak smile. “You already had someone who earned that title, and probably a lot better than I ever could have.”

“She was a good mom,” Chris stated sadly. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Thank you for giving her to me.”

I smiled faintly at that, grateful for Suzie Q yet jealous of her at the same time. “You’re welcome.”

Then, as we began to grab out baggage, trying to act as though nothing had just happened, Chris turned and gave me an odd look before quietly saying, “You know, I think you would have done a good job too.”

The End