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Post By
Exile

In Reply To
CrazySugarFreakBoy!

Member Since: Sun Jan 04, 2004
Posts: 1,235
Subj: Leave it to Kirk to find a way to work in cute crime fighting tom boys in spandex. :P Good story, mate.
Posted: Sat Aug 16, 2008 at 12:40:10 am EDT (Viewed 406 times)
Reply Subj: Saving the Future: A Groovy Gal’s Upcoming Upgrade
Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 at 04:37:04 am EDT (Viewed 429 times)



> Saving the Future: A Groovy Gal’s Upcoming Upgrade
>

> The Lair Legion mansion, past tense:
>
> “I didn’t kick your ass too hard, did I?” April Alice Apple smirked self-deprecatingly, as she grabbed a towel to wipe off her sweat-drenched, spandex-clad body.
>
> Dominic Clancy smiled reassuringly. “I’m impressed by the degree to which I didn’t have to hold back with you,” Mr. Epitome dabbed with his own towel at the few small drops of sweat that had beaded up on his forehead, before hastening to add, “relative to your average untrained baseline human opponent, of course.”
>
> “Oh, of course,” the Groovy Gecko-Gal teased him for his clinical tone. “I’m not entirely untrained, though,” she felt compelled to point out, smoothing her sopping wet bangs back from her brow. “I was a police explorer for all four years of high school, plus my great-aunt was Peggy Allen, The Woman in Red. Between her being the first female superhero in history and a cop for most of her life, ‘Nana’ Peg was able to teach me a few things.”
>
> “Not nearly enough, though,” Dominic narrowed his eyes. Dream would have seen it as a sign of disrespect for April, but she was sober enough to spot that Dominic’s scorn was reserved for the woman who had taught her.
>
> “I guess she thought that, if she just held back a bit, I’d lose my taste for it and quit,” April shrugged. “Now that I’m raising a stepdaughter of my own, it’s hard for me to judge her too harshly. I mean, I was still a freshman in high school when I started playing superhero –”
>
> “You’ve done a little more than just ‘play’ at it,” Dominic shook his head. He bit back the impulse to add, unlike your husband, but he could tell, by April’s frown, that she’d picked up on his unspoken implication. “Your fighting style shows more than a passing familiarity with elements of Capoeira, Pankration –”
>
> “Yeah, aspiring autodidactic mixed martial artist, me,” April cut him off impatiently. “Between juggling classes, homework, extracurricular activities, after-school jobs, adolescent dramas and costumed crime-fighting, the best I could hope to become was a Jack of all trades.”
>
> And a master of none, Dominic didn’t need to add. He instead turned to what he saw as April’s positives. “You have tremendous strength in your legs,” he realized, recalling a few blows from her feet whose force had caught him by surprise.
>
> “I should,” April brushed it off. “They’ve managed to haul my fat ass around enough –”
>
> “Don’t,” Dominic sighed wearily. “Just … don’t devalue yourself like that, okay?” April blinked and went wide-eyed, taken aback by his uncharacteristically tender encouragement, which caused him to avert his own eyes in turn. “Besides,” he inhaled sharply, his spine stiffening, “if you’ve ever seen football players, then you should know that … weight can be an advantage, when coupled with sufficient leg strength.”
>
> April chuckled. “Funny you should say that …”
>
> Dominic squinted. “Why’s that?”
>
> “Of all my acts of rebellion against my parents in high school, it was my grandest one,” April grinned. “My senior year, I went out for the football team.”
>
> Dominic cocked his head to one side. “No kidding?”
>
> “Of course, my parents were ashamed as all hell, which was part of the whole point,” April rattled off the details in wistful reminiscence, “plus, the coaches and all the other players were totally bullshit about it, but the school board finally decided they had to let me try out, at least. Heh … and what do you know? I was good enough to make the cut.”
>
> “I’m guessing that you still rode pine for most of the season,” Dominic deduced realistically, even as the corners of his mouth curled upwards.
>
> “All except for the final game,” April conceded freely. “By the last down, they literally didn’t even have enough uninjured players left to fill the lineup without me, so they either had to call me up from the bench, or else forfeit the match. Outside of practice, it was the first and last time I ever set foot on a field as a player,” she beamed, “and I sacked the quarterback.”
>
> Dominic couldn’t help bursting into brief laughter. “Way to go, Rudy,” he congratulated April. “Those are the sorts of valuable, earned skills you should be incorporating more fully into your combat tactics.”
>
> April winced. “It’s kind of hard to do, since my main gimmick has always been the Groovy Gecko-Gloves,” she pantomimed wall-crawling with her hands, “especially since they helped me climb up high enough to tag some of the more visible landmarks in the New York City skyline with my Groovy Gecko-Graffiti.”
>
> “Except that adhesive grip works best for improvisational acrobats, like your husband,” Dominic countered pragmatically. “What you need is equipment to enhance your preexisting kicking, charging and even leaping abilities to superhuman levels.”
>
> “Hi, vigilante on a budget, here,” April twittered her fingers sarcastically. “Back in high school, I was saving every penny I earned, just to afford my homemade costumes and crime-fighting accessories.”
>
> “Not anymore, you’re not,” Dominic declared, before calling out, “Hallie? Since you set up the simulated environment for our hand-to-hand scenario, I take it you’ve been monitoring our conversation?”
>
> Hallie materialized in a cascade of pixels, her arms crossed over her chest. “For your information, I was only keeping an eye on you to make sure you wouldn’t be too hard on her,” Hallie challenged Dominic assertively, before she sheepishly admitted to April, “That being said … he’s not wrong on this one. As a wise woman once told me, with irritating accuracy … you have embarrassing riches of friends, but you think, for some reason, that you have to accept all of the duties of those friendships, without reaping any of the benefits of them.”
>
> “Oh, that’s so not fair,” April rolled her eyes. “Between you and Dream, I shouldn’t have to deal with two people who have total recall for dialogue in debates.”
>
> “What I still can’t understand is, why did you waste all those years trying to dodge and weave your way through supervillains, like your husband,” he finally dared to add, in spite of the disapproving stares it drew from both April and Hallie, “when your natural talents would lend themselves much better to making you a powerhouse brawler?”
>
> “Because of the aesthetic, okay?” April threw up her hands in frustration. “Because it was a better homage, to the whole me-against-the-world Lee-and-Ditko character that I was aiming for – which, by the way, I was doing long before Dream, thanks. I’ve always considered myself an artist first. Besides, when I started out, the only tools I had in my kit were the Groovy Gecko-Gloves, so it kind of made sense to me to just … I don’t know, build on that theme.”
>
> Dominic and Hallie both gaped for a moment, sharing a stunned silence together.
>
> “So, you were willing to risk your life on a regular basis, just to right the wrongs you saw in the world around you,” Hallie could barely believe it, “even though you were armed with nothing more than … Velcro fingerprints?”
>
> “And you wonder why I respect you more than your husband,” Dominic muttered under his breath, then grimaced in embarrassment at the next words he was about to say to April. “You’ve built up more inner strength than he ever will. You’re … Sam to his Frodo.”
>
> April stifled a snort. “Wait,” she checked with Hallie, “did he just try to … speak in nerd, to pay me a compliment?”
>
> “Hey, he’s trying,” Hallie chided April affectionately, even as she gazed at Dominic with eyes brightened by amusement. “So, what were you thinking?” she addressed Dominic briskly. “Something like … what, pneumatic boots, maybe?”
>
> Dominic nodded. “If they allow her to jump with enough force, a retractable-wing glider backpack might come in handy as well, as long as it’s compact and light-weight enough.”
>
> “I’ll raid some of the more obscure designs that Al B. and Jaime have given me permission to use and share at my discretion,” Hallie planned out matter-of-factly. “There was this one concept I spotted recently that really intrigued me … an integrated audiovisual communications headset, that could convert audio signals to visual displays. It looked like … if goggles and headphones merged together, and sprouted antennae –”
>
> “You know, I’d probably be getting pretty pissed at you by now, for nosing in on my business like this, if I didn’t think you were doing this because your daughter’s been bugging you as much as she’s been bugging me, about wanting to see me as a superhero again,” April sought to play off her slight annoyance.
>
> Hallie nonetheless recognized April’s agitation, and took her friend’s hands into her own. “If you get to make me a project of yours, then I get to make you a project of mine,” Hallie gently squeezed April’s fingers. “I promise, you’re under no obligation to accept anything that I come up with.”
>
> April’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “Well, when you put it that way, all I can say is … thank you.” She hugged Hallie tight. “But I swear, if you wind up making me a goddamned Iron Spider suit …”
>
> The Lair Legion mansion, present tense:
>
> HALLIE curiously studied the contents of one of the private folders she’d discovered while scanning one of her slave drives. On the surface, it seemed no more extraordinary than the files she had on any number of other inventions – pneumatic boots, a retractable-wing glider backpack and an integrated audiovisual communications headset – but something about the green-with-orange-trim color scheme, and the triple-G insignia, that all of the items were branded with … well, it all just seemed strangely familiar, somehow.
>
> Finally, HALLIE rubbed her tired virtual eyes by reflex – even as she registered the superfluousness of such a programmed response – and moved on to analyzing the next database, closing the folder titled “Groovy Grasshopper-Gal.”





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