Fantastical worlds, Fiery Love (jana_denardo) wrote,
Fantastical worlds, Fiery Love

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Free Fiction - Even Superheroines Get the Blues

Two weeks ago, Chuck Wendig issued a challenge on his Terrible Minds blog to create a character (mine's here) and this week it was to write a story using one of the characters someone else created. It was tough to pick since there were plenty of good ones. I selected Yvonne Mae that was offered by Todd Dillard and you can see here here & you can find the challenge here

This is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it. I nearly ran out of time. It's been that kind of week.

Even Superheroines Get the Blues

Yvonne Mae rethought the whole getting out of bed deal. Today had been a huge ball of suck of the highest order. It started far too early in the morning with a haranguing call from Richard’s mother. How did the woman keep getting her number? For that matter, how did an ogre like Richard’s mom figure out how to use a phone? And how many different ways could Yvonne say it wasn’t her fault Richard was a complete infected dickhole who deserved every boot up the ass he got when their paths crossed?

After that debacle, Yvonne got her bat, jumped on Horace and went looking for something to beat on, pretending it was Richard’s mom with every punch. It didn’t matter that it was broad daylight. This was New York City and crime never slept, right? After a monotonous hour, she contemplated driving Horace right off the G.W. in a fit of boredom, and then she ran across Sparkly Unicorn Princess who was on the trail of some low rent criminals who were knocking over dog walkers and taking their dogs – frou-frou or otherwise – for whatever passed as shits and giggles for the kind of low life who enjoyed dog fighting.

Yvonne didn’t even need her Negative Newtons powers for these wusses. Hell, she didn’t even really need her bat. Yvonne wanted to fight, to get all her angries out but she could have waltzed through this bunch of losers with her eyes shut. Of course, if she did have them shut she would have missed Princess’s ‘sweet moves.’ They weren’t really needed either. None of the dognappers were super-powered, just scummy. That didn’t change the fact the moves were sweet, and Yvonne was still pissy after the villains were subdued. Where were her endorphins? She needed her feel-good, which was even more dented after one of them made a racial slur about the slant of her eyes. He did get a Negative Newton when Princess let him charge Yvonne who was pretty sure Princess knew how much Yvonne wanted to knock him into orbit.

She left Princess run the dimwit dognappers to jail and to claim whatever glory the papers wanted to hand out. Well, the internet at any rate. Yvonne didn’t have much time for the news regardless of venue, too depressing. Yvonne drove around looking for someone to vanquish but NYC was having the odd day off. She eventually gave up and managed to cram Horace into a parking spot so she could go into Housing Works to look over the books. If she couldn’t fight off her pent up anger maybe she could soothe it away with a good book.

An hour later, feeling marginally better, Yvonne went back to Horace, happy to see no one had tried to unlatch her bat which was still locked to the moped. Hearing someone behind her, she looked over her shoulder. Two twenty-somethings walked toward her like they were happier than a Golden Retriever with a new squeaky toy. The woman wore a scarf over her head covered with sugar skulls. The man looked like he should be knocking on doors to tell the home owner about Jesus.

“You’re the Equalizer, right?” The woman beamed at Yvonne.

Yvonne held back a sigh. She was not in the mood for any hero worshipping or autograph signing, not that it happened all that often. “Yeah. What can I do for you?”

“You can know your place, like a good little woman.” The only thing colder than the man’s smile was the sheet of ice that suddenly issued from his fingers.

Yvonne barely had time to strike, her fisting punching through the ice and the energy of her Negative Newton traveling back along the icy stream. It knocked him to his knees. “Really? What? Sugar Skulls, you’re MRA?” She wasn't in the mood for this crap. “Why would you support a group that hates women?” Yvonne kept a wary eye on the woman, wondering what was up her sleeve. Or was it under her scarf which twitched.

Sugar Skulls favored Yvonne with the beatific smile of a true believer. “The world is so much easier, more perfect when everyone keeps to their roles like they’ve done for centuries.” She tossed her scarf back revealing a mass of tentacles where hair should be. They slowly unfolded like a peyote-induced nightmare.

There was probably a tentacle porn joke in there somewhere but Yvonne wasn't seeing it. “So were the myths wrong all these years? Did Athena curse Medusa with tentacles and not snake? You're ugly enough to be her.”

“Bitch,” the woman spat.

“That’s the bitch to you.” Yvonne grinned as the woman slashed her tentacles at Yvonne's face.

Yvonne was lucky. They weren't MRA's best or brightest. Someone hadn't given them her full dossier. Or maybe they were just that weak. When one of them went down under the force of Yvonne’s powers, they stayed down and dazed just long enough for the other to attack. Good for Yvonne, bad for them. If they had charged her together, her power would be nullified.

It didn't take her long to use the locks and straps she used to keep her bat on Horace to chain Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum to a light post for the authorities to worry about. MRA was a terrorist group after all. Yvonne jumped on Horace and road off, well not into the sunset since it was barely noon. No, she was heading back home and going back to bed. Screw this day.
Tags: flash fiction

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