Trans Characters – Page 3 – Gillian's Notebook

The Dragon and the Girl – A Story of The Path

In a dragon burrow, a woman sat reading a letter. Most dragon burrows are just large enough for the dragon and its mate. Sometimes extended families of dragons create branching systems of rooms. This burrow had just one dragon but room enough also for the woman to have a table and chair, a bed, and a little walking about space.

“My sister gave birth to a daughter,” she said.

A gentle inquisitiveness entered her mind. “Will you ever have children?” the dragon rumbled.

Maria felt something turn inside her. “I…maybe.” It wasn’t that she didn’t want children but she couldn’t bear them herself. If she found a wife she could mother a child with her then but she had no luck over the years. She was still relatively young, only twenty-nine years old.

“I’m sorry I distressed you,” the low rumbly voice said.

“I’m not distressed. You just took me by surprise. Why do you want to know anyway?”

“For five generations, I have been pledged to aid your family. The pledge is passed from parent to oldest child. If you have no children, my pledge to your family ends.”

“Eh? Are you looking for a way to escape me? Go! I won’t stop you.”

“No, I do not wish to leave you. I have grown … fond of your family. I wish to remain with them even if you do not have children.”

“Then go to them.”

“It isn’t that easy.”

“Why not? I release you from your pledge, now go and live with the family that tossed me out.”

“They didn’t toss you out. You left.”

“They would have.”

“Your father-”

“Don’t talk to me about my father!”

“I can not just go to them. The bond we share is forged by time spent together. They would not be able to understand me as you do. I need you to come with me, to help them understand me.”

She poked the fire sending small bright embers flying. Thirteen no fourteen years since she ran away her family. Ran away from her father. “Dragon you ask too much of me.”

“I understand.”

— Years ago

She runs outside to the workshop. Tears spilled from her eyes. They just didn’t understand her. He didn’t understand.

“Are you all right little one?” a deep rumbling voice asks from behind and inside her head.

Behind her, a dragon uncurls from behind the kilns, “Yes, I’m fine,” she says and tries to project the feeling as well.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, just … my father … I …” She doesn’t know what to say.

“Hmm, your father calls you his son but you are not a boy, why?”

“What do you mean, I’m not a boy?” she asks.

“I feel it in your thoughts,” the dragon says his voice rumbling, massaging deep into her mind, “You feel like your great grand aunt. She and her sister were twins but so different. She was born second and so was not the pledge bearer but we were friends. You feel like her.”

“How long have you known?”

“It has become apparent over the years.”

“Could you tell my father that? Maybe he would believe you.”

“Your father does not wish to listen to his own daughter. Why would he listen to an animal like me?”

“You’re not an animal.”

“I am to your father. I’ve felt it in his mind.”

“Why don’t you tell him not to think that?”

“I am pledged to aid your family till its end or mine. This is how your father has chosen for me to aid him.”

“It’s not right. You should say something anyways.”

“It’s not right how he treats you. You should say something.”

“I’m not a dragon.”

“No, you are not. I’m sorry for forgetting that the most your father can do to me is speak harshly.”

An idea springs into her mind. A wild idea that she has thought but never said aloud. “I’m going to run away and I want you to come with me.”

“I’m pledged to your family. I can not abandon them.” There are concern and fear within the dragon’s rumblings.

“I’m not asking you to abandon them. I’m asking you to help me. I can’t stay here any longer. Father won’t let me be who I need to be here, so I have to leave.”

“Why do you need me to go with you?”

“I … I’m scared to go alone but I will if I have to. I thought … hoped as my friend you would come with me.”

“I am bound to your father by my pledge.”

“I’m next to be pledge bearer. You won’t be breaking your pledge to go with me. You’re supposed to aid the family; well I’m part of the family and I need aid.”

“You are stretching the meanings of words.”

“Will you come with me or not?” the youth pleaded.

The dragon drew its head back, tucked its chin down, its wings pulled tight against its body and it became still, even pausing its breath. The girl waited and watched the dragon.

— Now

“Dragon, I was cross with you last night and I am sorry.”

“I know. I felt it last night while you slept.”

“Can’t keep any secrets from you can I?” She paused and waffled on her decision before plunging forward, “I’ve decided to return home. I want to see my newborn niece.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I miss my family. My sister will be more than happy to receive me.”

“And your father?”

“I don’t know. But I’m not the scared little girl who ran away anymore. I will go and see him whether we see each other after that will be up to him.”

Five Minute Delivery – Monthly Delivery

teleportericon

“Thank you for calling Fine Minute Delivery. How may we help you?” I recognized the number so I cut my spiel short.
“Hello dear. I have my monthly delivery ready.”

“Yes, ma’am. Same room?”

“Yes. The curtains are blue now.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” I pictured the room. Single bed, small dresser next to the bed, pictures on top of the dresser, a couple of chairs, tv in the corner, and blue curtains. I felt the familiar tug and went.

My client was sitting in her bed hands folded over the blanket. On the chair next to the bed was a bouquet of flowers. I teleported the four feet to the chair and picked up the flowers. My client smiled. I didn’t need to teleport but my client liked seeing me do it.

“Any special requests?”

“No, just work your magic.”

I closed my eyes picturing the grass, open space, regularly spaced rows of stones, the somber atmosphere, the tree right there. And I went. I stood at the end of a grave. The stone was a double wide only half filled out with stone vases on either side. I sat the bouquet down next to the stone and began removing the old flowers.

I teleported home and dropped them in the trashcan outside before teleporting to the cleaning closet for a small hand broom.

“Honey?” I heard my wife shout from the kitchen.

“I’m on a job so I can’t stay,” I said popping out of the closet.

“Mrs. Henderson?” she asked. I nodded. “It’s so sad. She’s all alone.”

“She has kids and grandkids.”

“You said they hardly visit.”

“Well, yeah but I visit her at least once a month.” I paused before continuing, “She wants to meet you actually.”

“Me, why?”

“Well, I got to talking about you last time I did her delivery.”

“And she’s ok with …”

“Lesbians? Yeah, she’s cool. She was more confused by me being trans but she’s cool about that too. I have to get back but I’ll be here for dinner, ok?”

“Ok. Love you.”

“I love you, too.” I gave her a quick kiss on the lips and teleported back to the cemetery.

The caretakers used a leaf blower after cutting the grass but sometimes they didn’t get all the clippings off the stones. I swept Mr. Henderson’s gravestone clean of grass clipping, dirt, leaves, and bits of the old flowers. I opened the bouquet and divided the flowers roughly in half. Some flower arranging later and the stone was looking much better. I took some pictures and teleported back to Mrs. Henderson.

“All done,” I said.

“The nurse in the room jumped in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in.” She glanced at the closed door.

Mrs. Henderson smiled and chuckled. “She’s a sneaky one.”

“Are you family?”

“No, just a friend,” I said.

“Well as soon as Joyce swallows this pill, I can leave you to visit.” Mrs. Henderson took the small paper cup from the nurse and upended it into her mouth. She chased the pill with a swallow of water from the glass in the nurse’s other hand.

“Happy?” she asked.

“Very. I’ll be back in a few hours,” the nurse said. She left the room leaving us alone. I sat in a chair by Mrs. Henderson’s bed. She held out a couple of twenties to me. I took them and tucked them away. It was way less than what I charged other people but I was compensated other ways.

“How are you doing today?” I asked.

“Eh, better than some days worse than others. Talk to my doctor if you want more details,” she said.

“That’s good, I guess. I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, no I don’t mind,” she said in a softer voice. “How long can you stay?”

“Just a couple of hours. I promised the wife I’d be home for dinner.”

“So, when are you going to bring her by and introduce her to me, hmm?” She smiled and raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t like teleporting people or animals and it’s kind of a long drive.” Most of the time they make it through fine but every once in a while they aren’t. So, I don’t take the chance unless I have to.

“You teleported that blogger.”

“That was … I was mad about being ambushed.”

“You want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

Body Renewal

woman001icon

I gazed into the suspension tube. A familiar young woman floated within. She looked like the sister my sister had never accepted me as.

“We followed your requests for a true clone only altering the hormonal balance after puberty had started. If you don’t mind me asking why not get a full conversion?” the body renewal attendant asked.

“This how I want my body to be,” I told the young woman.

“That’s fully within your rights but most” she paused as she stumbled unto the next word, “women of your type prefer full conversions.”

“Trans women you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a bit older than most women or girls who go through this. I’m getting too old. The cost for my medications and treatments and therapies are going up every year. The insurance company decided it has become cheaper for to pay for a body renewal than to keep maintaining my body. I would never have chosen this for myself.”

“Why not? It’s a second chance at life. With a x-chromosome duplication you could have had children, a family-”

“A normal life?” I interrupted her.

“I didn’t mean … ”

“No, you didn’t but it’s an indication of the society we live in. Even after all these years we are still outsiders. That’s why I gave in and accepted this but on my terms. When I was a teenager this technology was science fiction. Now anyone with enough money or the right insurance coverage can get a new body. Eighty years of scientific advancement and they have never stopped hating us.”

“Surely it’s gotten better?”

“Tiny steps. Society advances and regresses like waves on the beach.” I gazed once more at the young woman floating in the chamber. “Maybe in my next life I’ll see some real change.”

Scientist of Death Issue #4

<<Previous Index

“Can I get a discount on this?” The customer shoved the item across the counter. “It has a stain right here.”

I looked at the indicated spot. The slight discoloration was probably not a set in stain and dabbing it with a wet cloth would most likely remove it. Not worth a discount in my eyes but store policy was more lenient.

“I can discount it by five percent,” I said.

“Is that all? I can’t get it half off.”

“No, five percent is all I’m allowed to do.”

“The other woman always gives me half off.” A blatant lie. No one except the managers could approve a fifty percent markdown and they rarely work the registers. I bit back on calling her on the lie.

“I’m sorry, it’s story policy,” I said.

“I’d like to speak to the manager.”

My hand reached for the button on my headset that would broadcast my voice to my co-workers and manager. As I depressed it, I felt a slight wiggle to the button. The switches and buttons on the sonic cannon I had handled the other day had been rock steady with smooth, crisp action. I looked around at the smirking customer, the other cashiers sneaking pity looks at me, the waiting customers in the queue and released the button without saying anything. I took off my walkie talkie.

“I quit,” I said to the customer.

“What?”

“I quit. I refuse to serve people like you who think you can just bully people like me to get whatever you want. I quit.” I grabbed the lanyard around my neck and yanked it straight down snapping the strap. The strap was made to snap apart to keep employees from accidentally being strangled by their lanyard but the effect was still dramatic. One of the other cashiers was speaking into her walkie no doubt informing every other employee of my actions.

I walked through the store to the break room where I retrieved my purse and left the store not physically for the last time, because I would have to return for my last check, but in spirit for the last time. From an inside pocket of my purse, I pulled out the receipt with an address and phone number on it and dialed the number.

It rang twice and the Doctor of Death answered, “Hello.”

“Do you have a workspace I can use or should I find something?”

“I can find you some space.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “Come by tomorrow. Glad to have you back.”

“I’m not back. I’m just working tech.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hung up before he could say anything else.

***

The next day, I returned to the office suite the Doctor of Death was using as his current front of operations. The waiting room was exactly the same including Susie the receptionist. I had hoped she would not be here since the last time we saw each other I had shot her with a sonic cannon.

She smiled, “Ms. Parks. So nice to see you again.” Was that a genuine smile or a shark smile.

“Hello Susie. I just wanted to say I’m sorry about shooting you the other day.”

Her smile tightened into something like a grimace. “Of course, mistakes were made on both sides.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.” Or at least you’re willing to pretend you do, I thought.

“I hope you will be as forgiving.” She pulled out the sonic cannon from behind her desk and fired it at me. The edge of my personal force field flared white as it absorbed the energy from the sonic pulse.

“Glad to see my paranoia wasn’t totally off base. If you could buzz me in, that would be great.” She glared at me but pressed the button to allow me entrance to the back. “Thank you.” I paused at the door and said, “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry I shot you.”

“Dr. Ford is expecting you,” she said through gritted teeth. Her eyes locked with mine in a challenge. Never leave an enemy at your back, especially not one willing to attack you from the back.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked casually.

“You’re some tech genius The Doctor wants to work for him.” She was almost sneering.

I walked closer to her desk. “Technically true. I’m also The Scientist of Death.”

“The Scientist of Death is dead.”

“No, just retired.”

“And he was a man.”

“Things change.” She began looking over my face and body for those telltale features. I watched for the moment when she realized I might be telling the truth. “Before I left the supervillain life I would have killed you instantly after you tried shooting me.” I stepped closer into her personal space. “That was five years ago. Today I’m letting you have that one shot but only that one shot. Try anything else and I will end this petty “feud” between the two of us permanently.” I reached out and snatched the sonic cannon from her hands.

To her credit she didn’t flinch or back away. She simply said, “Understood.”

“Good. You have a nice day,” I said and walked into the back.

<<Previous Index

Serial Story: Scientist of Death

A supervillain finds herself drawn back into her old life years after retiring to transition.

Scientist of Death Issue #3

Issue #1 here and Issue #2 here in case you’ve forgotten how we got here.

The Doctor of Death smirked at me, “I knew you weren’t out of the game.”

“I’m just asking. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure, sure.” He reached into a box box behind his desk and pulled out a device I was familiar with.

“Is that a Gurrola Sonic Cannon?”

“Mark two,” he added.

“Bullshit. No one has a mark two.”

“I have a source who found a small cache of them. The only problem is they don’t work and I don’t know how to fix them.”

“May I?” I asked reaching for the sonic cannon. He handed it over to me. GSC Mk 2’s were considered bleeding edge of non-lethal weaponry at their time. Even by modern standards they were incredibly advanced. I extended the projection chamber from over the main housing and locked it in place. What it should have uncovered was a smooth machined aluminum housing for the sound generator and amplifier unit. Instead a section had been cut out and a small circuit board had been installed. “What’s this?”

“After market modification.”

“After market modification? Hmm.” The board had a printed circuit, dozens of resistors, transistors, and diodes, a row of ten switches, and a rheostat. Several wires trailed off the edge of the board and snaked into the housing. “What does it do?”

“I dunno.”

“All of them have the same circuit board installed?”

“Yes.”

I lifted the cannon to my face and sniffed the open housing. No burnt smell, maybe the original hardware hadn’t been fried. Without a careful analysis of the circuit I couldn’t know what it did. The board was held in place by a few spots of solder. A forceful tug snapped it free of the housing leaving it attached only by the wires.

“Ahh-” the Doctor of Death began.

I held up a finger and glared at him, “I’m working.” I tilted the cannon hoping to see where the wires were attached. I thought back to the circuit diagrams of the GSC Mk 3 I had seen over twenty years ago. Nope, still no idea what the circuit did. Taking a firm grip on the wires, I yanked them out with a hard tug.

The Doctor of Death made a strangled gasping sound.

On the other side of the housing I flipped the main power switch and heard the distinctive hum of a Gurrola Sonic Cannon but with an undertone I had never heard before.

The Doctor of Death raised an eyebrow, “Really just like that it’s fixed?”

“You dare question The Scientist of Death. I’ll show you what happens to someone who questions me,” I said slipping back into the hyperbolic personal far easier than I thought possible. I adjusted the cannon for low power and fired at second chair I hadn’t been sitting in. A sharp clap filled my ears. I shouldn’t have heard anything; the joker who had tried modifying the gun must have damaged the damping shield. The chair slammed against the wall which shook from the sound pulse. I turned back to the Doctor of Death with my own eyebrow raised.

“I guess I should know better than to –” He was cut short by the door being kicked in by his receptionist, Susie. She aimed at me and I instinctively fired the sonic cannon at her. The sonic discharge again clapped in my ears and sent Susie flying back through the door into the hallway.

“What was that about?” I asked my heart pounding.

The Doctor of Death hurried around his desk and out the room to check on Susie. “You did fire a sonic cannon with out warning.”

“I guess I did.” I took a deep slow breath. “Still charging into a meeting with a…,” I squinted at the gun laying on the floor, “What is that?”

“Hmm, Morris Maser Gun.”

“Not very non-lethal,” I commented.

“In house security is allowed lethal weapons.”

“I guess times have changed.” As I powered off the sonic cannon and retracted the projection chamber, I noticed my ring finger twitch. “Well, now that you know how to fix them, you really don’t need me anymore.”

“The job offer is still on the table. I could use your tech skills.”

“I’m retired and I should stay that way.” I set the sonic cannon on the desk and picked up my purse.

“If you ever change your mind, just give me a call,” the Doctor of Death said as I walked out through the open door to the empty reception area.

***

Later that night I sat in the dark thinking. I had had fun today. Shooting Susie had been unfortunate but the rest was good. Holding a sonic cannon after years, examining the circuits and making the quick fix had felt like the old days.

Could I work for The Doctor of Death? I had thought my career as a supervillain was over. My plan had been to leave all that in the past after I transitioned. I didn’t need to return to being a face in the League of Evil. All I really wanted was resources and equipment for tinkering and improvement of tech. The heists and warehouse raids had just been a means to an end. But if The Doctor could provide me with all that…

A lamp snapped on. “Why are you in the dark?” Julie asked.

“I was thinking.” She walked around the room turning on lamps until the illumination of the room was at normal levels.

“Thinking about what?” she asked.

“I went to see that guy who recognized me yesterday.”

“Your friend?” she asked sitting down next to me.

“Ex-coworker,” I corrected. “He’s got his own business now and offered me a job.”

“That’s great. Why don’t you take it? It sounds like he’s cool with you and it’s got to pay better than retail.”

“It would pay better. I’m just not sure I want to get back into that … environment.”

“What’s so bad about it?”

“Nothing on the surface. It’s hard to explain. Some of the guys in the industry can get real confrontational.” Laser duel confrontational.

“Well it’s up to you if you take the job. I’ll support you either way.” Julie snaked an arm around me and pulled me into a hug. I brought my own arms up around her as well. How long could I lie about I was really doing? I wondered if our relationship would survive if she knew the truth about me.

Author note: The story doesn’t end here. The Scientist of Death hasn’t even really begun her new villainous adventures. Sorry it’s taken so long for me to get back to this story but more will be coming.

Five Minute Delivery – Black Bag

“Hello thank you for calling Five Minute Delivery. Your delivery is guaranteed to arrive in five minutes or it’s free. Boxes must weigh no more than seventy pounds. No live animals. Cash only. How can I help you?”

“I have a delivery. I’m sending the video.” The called ended and a message notification popped up The voice had been curt, not someone I had talked to before but they apparently knew how I worked. I watched the video. Gray walls, a clock, and nothing else. I closed my eyes, pictured the room and couldn’t go. Not enough detail for me home in on. I watched the video again paying attention to the size of the room and the exact shade of gray on the walls. I tried again and felt myself go this time.

I was looking at the clock when the lights went out. I had started to turn, when I heard a pop, something hit me in the back, and everything went white. When I could think again, I was on the floor. My head hurt, I felt hot, and my back ached. I focused on someplace else and teleported.

The sun was bright over head and the sidewalk warm under me. I started to get up and felt a stabbing pain in my back. I reached back gritting against the pain and felt wires leading from my back. Fuck, they tasered me.

Serial Story – The Non-Adventures of Francine

A woman wants to live a normal life but “Stories” keep coming for her.

The Non-Adventures of Francine (intro story)
White Feather – A Francine Non-Adventure (stand-alone fluff)

Series One – A New Adventure

White Feather – A Francine Non-Adventure

This story is a continuation of The Non-Adventures of Francine but isn’t a direct sequel.

Warm fall day. Gentle cool breezes. Puffy white clouds rolling across the sky. A perfect day to sit in the park and read a book. So I did.

I wandered into the park next to my apartment and found a bench under a tree. After a while, I had a sudden feeling of being watched. I looked around and saw a single feather floating high in the sky. The small, white, half fluff feather twirled and twisted, rocking back and forth through the air. Slowly it descended, coming closer and closer. I reached out my hand to catch it. For a second it seemed like it would fly past me. A slight change in the wind and the feather swooped straight at my hand, almost within my grasp.

Wait, what was I doing? I snatched my hand back like the feather might bite it. The feather stopped and began to drop. I ducked and rolled off the bench. By the time I regained my feet, the feather had found an updraft and drifted once more down toward me. I bobbed and weaved under it to pick my book up off the bench and walk away. I turned back to see it floating over the bench and flying up on a gust of wind into the sky.

What would have happened if I had grabbed the feather? Would I end up involved with historically important events in the future? Would events in my past suddenly become historically significant? I didn’t know but I knew that was a story I didn’t want to get involved. That is if it was a story hook. I might have just been dancing around a regular feather.

I hoped no one had seen me.

Back-up Team – Introductions

I paced nervously in the main room of the hotel suite I had rented for the interview. I heard a beep as the door unlocked. It opened and closed so fast I never saw the hallway. From the door, a blur crossed the room in a second and popped into focus as the green and yellow clad speedster ironically called The Speedster. The door opened a second time at normal speed and a young man in a black suit walked in.
“You could have left the door open for me,” he said to the speedster. I recognized him as a local “psychic” who had helped the police with a few cases.

“It’s called making an entrance,” her voice was modulated and filtered by her helmet to be unrecognizable. She turned back toward me, “Are you, George Gregory? The reporter?” I nodded. She turned back to the suit clad psychic, “You got a lock on his brainwaves?”

The psychic rolled his eyes at her, “I’m filtering his perceptions and editing out any identifying info.”

“Great,” she said and took off her helmet. A halo of black ringlets sprung out from The Speedster’s head. The face of a young black woman smiled at me. “It gets a little stuffy in there.”

“Aren’t you worried about me identifying you? Spoiling your secret identity?” I asked.

“Not as long as Mind Reader is here,” she said loading a few chunks of cantaloupe from one of the food trays requested for the interview onto a plate. “Close your eyes and try to remember what I look like.” I did so and only the most general descriptors came to mind. Her face was like an out of focus picture. I opened my eyes and her face was back in focus.

“I’m editing your memories as they’re being formed. You get the experience but not the memory,” Mind Reader told me. He walked across to room and took up station in the corner. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

A gentle knock sounded from the glass door leading to the balcony. “That’s Brick. I’ll get it.” Again she disappeared in a blur of green and yellow and reappeared at the glass sliding door. She unlocked and opened the door. A large man wearing a gray t-shirt and blue jeans walked in. He stopped just inside the door and surveyed the room.

“Is the room secure?” he asked. His voice was quiet almost a whisper.

“Um, let me check,” Speedster said disappearing and reappearing briefly at the bedroom doors and the main door to the suite. “All doors secure.” The man’s shoulders dropped slightly and his hands fell loosely to his sides. “Grab some grub. We’re still waiting on the rest.”

“Bedrooms are clear,” a voice said behind me. I turned just in time to see a young woman finish walking through the door to one of the bedrooms. She was dressed in black yoga pants and a black band shirt I couldn’t quite place.

“You walk through walls?” I asked.

“Yeah. Hi. I’m Ghost. It’s kind of my thing,” she said walking through a chair to get to the buffet.

“Are you actually a ghost?”

“No, I’m not a ghost,” she looked to Speedster, “I thought we picked this guy cause he was smart.”

“I am smart but I don’t have any info about you. You aren’t mentioned in any of the after-action reports about the mother-ship assault.”

“None of the reports were written by anyone who was there. That’s why we want to talk to you. To set the record straight.”

The hallway door beeped and opened at a normal pace this time. A third woman entered with a young man following behind her. I recognized her as The Baton a vigilant from a nearby city. The young man was a complete unknown like Ghost. He walked around the perimeter of the room with a handheld device waving it at the corners.

“Room is clear,” he said.

“Good,” The Baton said, “Mr. Gregory, it’s nice to meet you. I’m The Baton. The young man who walked in with me is called The Kid –”

“Only until I come up with something better,” The Kid interjected.

“Has everyone else introduced themselves?” she asked looking around at her fellow superheroes. Speedster nodded, Ghost shrugged, and Mind Read gave a small two finger salute.

“I’m … uh The Flying Brick,” the large man said, “They usually just call me Brick.”

“Well, now that introductions are out of the way; let’s get down to business,” Baton said, “We want to tell our stories and his story.”

“Whose story?” I asked.

“None of us knew his name. I called him the spook,” Ghost said

“I called him the man in black,” Mind Reader said.

“Mostly we called him That Guy. As in who was that guy?” Speedster said.

“He was the one who brought us together as a team. He had another team, too. First Strike Team. The strongest powered people he could find and organize into a team,” Baton said.

“I wasn’t aware there was another superhero team,” I said.

“They died assaulting the alien mother-ship,” Brick said, “We were the backup team.”

“We’ll get to that but first we should tell our stories. Who wants to go first?” Baton asked.

The others looked back and forth among themselves. After a minute Speedster stepped forward, “I’ll go first.”

To be continued in “Backup Team – The Speedster”