Power Tribulation
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
I don’t know why I’m writing this introduction for the new Trade
Paperback.
It’s been a time since I wanted to say something that wasn’t a fiction
of sorts, but now I feel as if I just have to. As if something is
going to happen soon.
All those years. The days, the months, the countless adventures. As if
they’re all leading up to something bigger. I just don’t know what
yet.
Ah to be young again, and impressionable. Think that with a little bit
of power and a fancy costume that the world was yours for the taking.
Of course if I had the taste then that I had now, I would have been
horrified to have been forced to go out in public dressed like I was!
Face it, those kind of skin tight spandex get-ups are only cute and
fancy when you’re too young to know better.
Yeah, but youth never lasts and powers don’t last either it seems.
Nothing much in my life lasted for very long--- except for one
thing--- my love--- but I‘m jumping ahead of myself. These days it has
come to the point that I couldn’t even think of what else to write for
my fictional hell except to try and slowly mend what I broke when I
wrote out the first issue of “Power Pack“. Wanting to make right what
I purposefully made wrong out of spite--- or resentment. It was like I
was simply making up things as I went along, mangling truth under
fiction as I went. Writing not to tell it as it was, but as it had to
be to sell copies, banging out each issue under a deadline to get the
product out on time only to finally realize the pain I caused with
each issue and each page. Maybe I can make things right again. Maybe.
How disappointed I was though. All those years, and all those dreams,
and in the end? Look at what became of the older Powers sister in the
end. I became a spiteful person, turning our innocent adventures and
heroics into a controversial comic book which was selling hotly off
the shelves as fast as they’re printed, and skyrocketing in value in
the secondary market. But still, my “rewriting” of history, my
“profitable” storytelling, didn’t sit well with my siblings and who
could blame them? After what I wrote? They were fed up with me to the
point that it was better for my own brothers to pretend I didn’t exist
at all, and that was all well and fine with me.
Still, as I sit pondering my next words, I wonder if I still wasn’t
bitter about it all even now.
When it ended that day that seemed like an eternity, we all agreed it
was for the best.
But as time went on I became bitter about the lost of my powers. All I
could think of was wanting them back. It obsessed me, and I didn’t
care one way or another as long as I could feed my obsession. Somehow
the others had put that part of their past behind them, but I still
craved the attention and recognition I felt the power gave me. In
fact, I probably still crave that attention in a sense even to today.
Maybe writing the comic was a way of reliving my glory days, or to
feed that small part of myself that wanted those powers (or the
recognition the powers gave me) back.
Still, how I presented the “story” didn’t sit well with my siblings.
It started about two years ago (as the new millennium began). I had
found my place in the world writing comics here and there, and even
found a significant other to love, but that still wasn’t enough. When
I had the chance to pitch a new series for an upcoming mature comic
line, I picked up the pieces of my past exploits with the siblings as
the ideal place to start. It was simple enough in theory --- write
about our adventures and make it fast paced and attention grabbing.
But instead of putting the pieces back into place as they belonged, I
took the pieces, scrambled them, added new pieces and brought them
together with a sledgehammer. What I wrote started this spite between
myself and my brothers, and I have no one to blame but myself for
that. The first issue started the story, not set in our innocent
childhoods, but in the turbulent years of our high school days. I
started with my brothers, portraying them as aggressive jerks with big
egos and a massive self importance streak. Then again (in reflection)
I never did like my brothers in high school, so why pretend I had a
happy relationship with them in later years anyway?
But what I said about my sweet little sister--- oh god, the things I
said--- in the end I wrote her off like she was a bi-sexual slut who
slept around, and later had a hot sexual relationship with our alien
“mentor” (who was portrayed as being female in the series).
That, of course, was not true but she, of all of them, made me the
angriest. Not because she wanted to (make me angry), but because she
only wanted me to be happy. She smothered me with her emotions and
drove me crazy, so much so I wrote every sex scene with her in it as a
way of lashing out at her. At striking back and making her feel like I
felt! Horrible! Nasty! I wanted her to feel every stinking moment of
my pain and never forget the real “face” of her older sister, and how
much it hurt being me and wanting the thing I could not have--- power.
Power I used to have but not anymore. To me, before I met my love a
year ago, she was the worst of it all, a constant reminder of the
things I could never have and always wanted. She was the one my
writings were most spiteful against because she was the one who always
tried to make me give up my dreams of being super again, and just be
myself. She was always so counterproductive in the ways she wanted to
love me. All the positive nonsense she kept spewing at me made me sick
of her! So why not draw her being screwed by her horse girl lover?
Like the little whore she was? She fucking made me feel ashamed of
wanting what should have been mine, so I screwed her back since she
could never stop screwing with my emotions! Every word dripped with
venom, and I relished every visual and knew it hurt her bad.
I wanted love, desperately, but I couldn’t take the love my sister
gave me. I wanted it all to be on my terms and little sister didn’t
know how to get with that program! Not with the program? Wasn’t my
problem because she’s not playing the game right. And if she gets hurt
by big sister’s twisted up feelings? that’s her problem! Not mine!
But one day I found somebody. She made me smile, and at first I
thought we’d be friends.
But it’s been six months since she dedicated herself to me. Six months
since she moved in with me and we started being together like lovers.
Six months, and she’s changed my heart ever since.
What? No boy in my life but another girl? Am I crazy? No. I’m real.
It’s my life. This is the way I live it, and this is the person I’ve
chosen to love. Regardless of what I was, and the innocence I may have
one had, I’m not innocent anymore. I don’t wait for Prince Charming to
come on a white horse to sweep me off my feet. Sometimes a girl can be
swept off her feet by a Princess, and there’s nothing wrong in it. No
sin, or evil or wickedness. Love is love, and that’s the important
thing to me. I used to love a boy, but he was about as sappy as my
little sister and that screwed with my mind.
(In retrospect I guess that’s why I wrote that issue where sis and him
banged, especially since it was a month after they tried to gang up on
me and “smother” me to death with their lovey dovey preaching).
But for me gender isn’t the issue in matters of love. It’s not the
gender of the person I fell in love with, but the person (period). She
made me feel good about myself after such a long time of being in
darkness. She made me smile, and made me feel whole again, she even
helped me start a long road to reconcile with my siblings though I’m a
realist and don’t think it’ll ever happen.
Still, she’s my one and only. I can’t imagine being without her.
And, ironically, in the end I wasn’t the only one with these kinds of
feelings. My little sister turned out to find that love too, but not
until after a long string of broken hearts. Her first boyfriend turned
out to be a jerk, and the others didn’t do much better. I didn’t think
she’d find the right person, but eventually she did. The fact it’s a
woman (and just so happens to be of that same alien race of that alien
who gave us our powers in the first place, she being an trainee in
planetary observation and guidance who found my little sister and fell
in love with her (and vice versa)) peeves my brothers off who thinks I
corrupted her).
The simple matter of fact is I did no such thing. She’s too good
hearted for her own good, but don’t say that to my brothers. As far as
they’re concerned I seduced my little sister in my bed with my lover
right beside me, and bent her into the woman loving girl she is now.
Yeah, right.
Little sister’s a lot of things in my book, but gullible and easily
victimized she’s not.
She’s a hopeless optimist. She still clings onto her views of the
world as it should be. Optimistic to the end, damn her. Still it
helps, and now that I feel more positive about things it’s even
welcomed. Almost. I still don’t have my powers, but maybe it’s for the
best. I have a love now, and a life of sorts, so maybe being powerless
isn’t so bad. At least in the fantasy world that mirrored a real but
unspoken of reality I still had those powers, and everything is OK.
At times, in reflection, I sound like a druggie the way I ramble on at
times and I probably am in a sense. The powers sound like they have
the same meaning to me like a shot of heroin. If it wasn’t for the
love of a good woman who stood with me through thick and thin I think
I would have went over the edge by now. At least Amy’s always there
for me, even when I’m not even there for myself.
Heard there was some new designer drug out there. Good at giving
mutations to people.
Nah. Not my cup of tea. I may want power, but not like that. Anyway, I
have a life now, a lover to care for, I can’t chase my dreams anymore
when I have more down to Earth dreams to cherish.
Like one day taking the woman I love in holy matrimony. That’s a far
better dream, at least to me.
---------
With a slight click the door downstairs opens and closes, letting Amy
in.
“I’m home!”
“How was your day?” I called down, shutting off the computer as I did.
“Fine. Probably not as productive as your day but it wasn’t so harsh.”
(sound of take out being put on table) “I got Chinese tonight!”
“Goody! I could go for it tonight, I‘m starved!” (my stomach was
rumbling abit, so I pretty much couldn’t get downstairs fast enough).
As I entered the kitchen I sighed. Amy, her back turned towards me,
was setting the table. “Want to know how my job was today, Amy? It was
boring as usual. Nothing but work, work, work.”
“Yeah. Well, office work tends to be boring too. I don‘t even watch
the end product anymore--- anyway it just makes me long for you that
much more if I “watch“---” Amy turns and gives me a slight wink as she
works on the presentation of dinner, while I simply stand there,
soaking in her beauty. She was a little shorter than me, and presented
a petite figure to my stronger body (from years of gym classes and
rough basketball games to work off my anger at the world for being
unfair to me). She had gentle yet supple curves, and a beautiful
wildly imaginative short trim of hair which was wavy, wild, and as
black as the dark piercing eyes she often beheld me with. She had a
gentle smile, and a loving touch, yet she wasn’t a slouch because she
knew martial arts (she was a hopeless fan of Hong Kong cinema and
learned it just to emulate her idols). Yet she was also like a
delicate china doll when I held her in my arms, and her hands which
could probably break wood are so gentle when we make love. (Oh,
another point, I have a pulse and I’m actually alive so I have a right
to have a sex drive if I want it. I’m not dead yet you know!)
Speaking of making love (or just sex) that’s her job. She runs the
cleanest (if possible considering the trade) sex site on the web. All
the women are of legal age, work in a clean environment, and are kept
safe from stalkers. But how you might ask? Amy’s little profitable
cyberspace company is called “Fantasy Nekos” and is all catgirls (and
lots of watchers paying a tidy but decent fee), so lots of make-up and
wigs are used on the girls. By the time they’re through with their
morning make-up sessions they don’t resemble the women who walked into
the doors that morning. And, with the “playdens” kept at a constant
cool temperature they can “play” all day and not risk their make-up or
disguises coming undone in the middle of a scene. Total fantasy with
the security of having your identities kept safe under excessive
make-up and good costume designs. That makes Amy a rather nicely set
girl, though I’m making a nice buck myself too.
Still, the icing on the cake would be me back in the saddle again.
Super heroics, saving the day, and making Amy truly proud of her
lover. Give her something she can feel pride in for a change.
Sigh. But I’m depressing myself again, and Amy hates it when I do
that. So as I sit down she brings up the topic of the new issue again.
She’s always so curious about what I’m writing.
Maybe I’ll let her peek tonight, if she let’s me have a little treat.
She smiles, lolls her eyes playfully, and acts as if she doesn’t know
what I want.
She knows. I just have to ask nicely and show her my stuff, and she’ll
comply.
I love it when she teases like that. She’s so cute when she plays hard
to get.
-----
Maybe it’s my powers obsession, or the content of what I write on a
daily basis, whatever. I just know that at times I don’t like what I
dream about. It’s always the same, and it’s not very nice.
I dream about the old days, about my powers, only now I’m the only one
with powers (older) and everyone else who used to be there for me have
moved on with their lives. Nobody is left for me, not my brothers or
sisters, not family, no one. I feel so alone despite my powers. I just
want to curl up and die.
Is that what it’s like? To be a mutant I mean. All the power in the
world and no hope? The ability to do anything and yet feel like your
worthless? Despite what so many think about mutants being more and
more mainstream (and able to live normal lives) it’s not that simple.
I remember when I fell in love with Amy, and feeling as if I couldn’t
tell anyone about it. I didn’t know what to feel, felt all messed up
and it didn’t make sense. I should have been happy for myself, for
Amy, and yet it felt as if everyone was judging my happiness and
mocking me. In the end I told my family, and though a few rejected me
the others supported my choice and was there for me and Amy when we
needed their help the most.
In the end I learned to accept who I was, and came to realize that
people who loved me loved me for who I was, not who they wanted me to
be. Nice words but sometimes I still felt weird, and these dreams
didn’t make those feelings go away. But still--- what if I had my
powers again?
As I woke up I felt the soft stirrings of Amy next to me, her gentle
features reflected in the soft dim light of early morning as she
rested next to me. Briefly I smile, and remember the radiating warmth
our bodies gave off only several hours ago as we made love. I reach
out to touch her soft face only to stop myself. I didn’t want to worry
her so I got up. One quick shower, a little more writing (e-mail the
new pages to the Artist to draw) and it’s downstairs to make her
breakfast.
-------
As Amy, dressed in her cute jammies, walked downstairs she could sense
my tension.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, walking in. Maybe it was my stance, or the
way I shuffled my eggs onto my plate as I moved to sit down, or the
fact that I cook enough for the Brady Bunch to eat when I’m agitated
and Amy just has to look on her breakfast plate to know something’s
up.
“Having bad dreams again?” she asked, sliding past me kissing me
softly as she did.
“Thinking about powers again.” I remarked, “Like I’d be all alone if I
had my powers again.”
“Why? Did having powers make you feel ostracized before?”
“---I don’t know---” (Lame. Same excuse I use every morning I dream
that dream.)
“How did it feel like to have powers?”
Huh? Now there’s a new twist. She never asked me that before. I didn’t
know what to say at first, so I ate a little while I thought about it.
“It felt sorta good. Like I had more control over my life.”
“Did you?”
“Not really. Later I realized that control was an illusion. I
eventually was forced into doing things I didn’t like, sometimes by
fate, sometimes by design. It wasn’t fair and at times even our most
trusted friends betrayed us and that hurt.” (deep sigh as I quickly
summarize) “It just felt that all that power made me more mature, made
me free of my meaningless responsibilities. But, in the end, they just
piled more responsibilities onto me. Funny. When I had my powers I
didn’t want to think I was escaping responsibility, I seemed to cling
onto it rather tightly. But, now, as I look back maybe I wanted to
trade in the responsibilities others stuck on me for my own
responsibilities. Have more control over myself, which in the end I
never truly had.”
“Did having powers make you happy?”
“You make me happy, Amy.”
“What about the powers?”
Silence. I didn’t know how to approach that. “I-- I never felt as
happy, no matter what power I had, as I feel around you. Powers fed
something in me, but didn’t really make me happy. Guess in the end the
powers really didn’t do anything for me at all. But I was young back
then, what did I know?”
“You knew enough to fall in love one day.” (Amy kisses me again, on
the lips this time) “And that’s enough for me. Well, I better get
going.” (Wh--what? She ate while I was talking? Man I wasn’t paying
attention!) “Get dressed and then out the door, there’s a shoot going
this morning. Today it’s Neko Picnic and you know how out of control
those girls get when they’re given too many props and their
imaginations run wild. Be right back’.” (one more kiss) “Don’t forget
to drop by for lunch. I can’t eat around those girls without them
trying to get me to sit in on one of their sets.”
“Sure. No prob.”
As Amy heads upstairs to dress I finish breakfast and head back
upstairs and go back to my work (just as Amy heads down and out the
door, kissing me one more time in farewell).
-----
Maybe it’s the place we live in that makes me powers happy. Manhattan.
Lots of Super types come and go about here, or just New York in
general. It must be a super hero magnet place, though I heard New
Jersey was making their own super heroes (but mostly rumors).
Sometimes (once in a long blue moon while) somebody I met when I was
with Power Pack runs into me and says hi, which is a tad awkward to
have a super hero drop his or her daily routine to drop down and say
hi in the middle of a crowd of people. All in all, I’m OK with it---
still I’d rather they drag me off to some quiet spot before wanting to
recollect about when I was younger and a spunky girl with powers.
It’s embarrassing, to say the least.
That’s when it happened. As I was walking along, my head filled with
thoughts, my heart suddenly stops for a second as something explodes.
Great. Just great. I’m in the middle of a pending super smack down and
I didn’t bring my villain repellant. Just my rotten luck. As the smoke
clears and the obvious sound of fists hitting things reaches my ears,
I curse myself for insisting on power walking everywhere I go. Damn me
for my desire to be healthy! This never happens very often on the
subway!
From the smoke comes flying towards me some guy I never saw in a gaudy
costume. Man, you can’t turn around these days without running into
another muscle bound jerk in funny tights who thinks he’s hot stuff
just because he can punch holes into steel. Man, what idiots these
strength powered jerks are! But it’s the one following behind him that
catches my attention. Funky off color armor, weird wings--- oh, great,
of all the costumes to revive somebody had to revive THAT costume---
the Beetle. I always thought the guy behind The Beetle was kinda lame.
A geek who studied one too many bugs when he was younger.
I mean, really, “The Beetle”! Gimme a break! But that doesn’t stop tin
head and his new acquired hand me down suit since the original ended
up in the group the “Thunderbolts” and recently went up the river with
his girlfriend (another TB member) watching. Oh, yeah, I don’t need to
e-mail the guy to tell him his “girl” probably isn’t waiting for him
to get pardoned before jumping someone else’s cape or costume that’s
for sure! But when I think about that, I feel a little sorry for the
guy. He takes the fall for his friends and even his girl abandons him
in his moment of need. Lost track of him after that, think he broke
out or got paroled or killed or something. Hopefully he got out of
jail fine, and found a real woman to love.
Oh, back to the knob in front of me in the gaudy bug-armor. Bug bot
here obviously had a serious taste in upgrades and butt kicking tech
because he seemed to slap little boy drool around without even
springing an oil leak. And from his stomping over to me (leaving
cracks in the street as he did) to get his “playmate”, I could tell
there was serious power in his get-up.
Me? I couldn’t care less. I’m going to be late so I better---
“Come here, skirt, and witness the POWER of THE BEETLE!!”
Oh god! He wants me to--- what? Play hostage? Admire him while he beat
Capt. Funky Suit up? NOT happening! I have a lunch date! I don’t have
time to stand around and watch him get all macho now that he’s the new
bad guy in town! “I don’t have time. Go impress Spider-Man or someone
who cares.”
“WHAT?! YOU DARE MOCK ME? I SHOULD VAP--”
“Shut up.”
“WHAT DID---”
“I SAID SHUT UP!!” I spin around, eyes blazing, and for the first time
in a long while I was genuinely angry. Not just spitefully miffed, I’m
going to write my little sister up like a bed hopping sex freak angry,
I mean blood boiling I’m having a breakdown angry! “First off, don’t
call me SKIRT! I have a name! USE IT! Next off, I don’t have---”
“H-HOW DARE YOU---”
“I SAID SHUT UP!!” Before I can think I’m on top of him in a blur,
venting out my anger with a backhand that knocks him into a wall. In
retrospect I think I was spewing energy when I was ranting, and this
was the burst of energy powered speed which is one of my new powers
(short distances though). But I was too freakin’ angry to notice---
for now. As bug-boy tried to pull himself up I was on top of him
again, pushing him down with one foot, “I SAID SHUT UP!!” (I was
really angry because now I started ranting) “I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR
THIS!! I HAVE A DATE!! SO GO IMPRESS SOMEBODY IN THEIR LONGJOHNS AND
UNDERWEAR ABOUT HOW FREAKIN’ TOUGH YOU ARE!! MAYBE THEY’LL KICK YOUR
ASS AND THAT’D BE AN IMPROVEMENT IN MY OPINION! I MEAN REALLY!! THE
BEETLE?!? WHAT!?! COULDN’T THINK UP YOUR OWN LAME COSTUME AND IDENTITY
SO YOU BORROWED ONE FROM ANOTHER LOSER??? DID YOU AT LEAST GET THAT
GET UP AT FIVE-FINGER DISCOUNT BECAUSE IF YOU PAID FOR IT YOU PAID TOO
MUCH FOR THAT PIECE OF CRAP!! GIVE ME A BREAK!!”
With that I stalked off again, mostly glad I decided to pack my
favorite backpack to carry things in or I’d have lost track of lunch.
Might have to pick up new sodas on the way to Amy’s office though,
these are probably all shaken up from the fracas. But wouldn’t you
know it--- bug boy didn’t know when to shut up. “You BITCH!! You have
NO idea who your messing with! But go on! Run and let your boy toy eat
you out you bitch!!”
Oh--- now THAT hurt! Just because it’s a “Date” it doesn’t mean it’s a
guy! And I simply had to turn around. Lord knows when I did he looked
like he just relieved himself in his suit (hope it cleans itself up
good or that’ll be a messy problem to explain when he’s arrested). I
stomp over, grab his tin hide before he gains the common sense to fly
away (he could have, you know that don’t you?), and pretty much beat
him into the ground with energy boosted strength. Of course I didn’t
use such tactical analysis of what I was doing then, I was one PO’d
girl and he was on my “to hurt” list, suit or no.
With one final blow I blasted him across the street, and finally it
hit me. Yeah. I’m beating the crap out of little boy purple and I
FINALLY figure it out that I’m kicking his armored butt bare handed!
So I was feeling a tad slow on the uptake that day, sue me! After the
entire beating I laid out on him I was finally feeling the surges of
that long wanted power in me, rippling, pounding, filling me with it‘s
nasty energy.
It felt damn good! Really damn good, and I loved it too! I felt all
tingly and stuff, as it surged through me. And, just to test out my
theory (so that I knew I wasn’t trippin’ or anything) I gunned down
bug boy with a Dragonball Z style energy cannon blast that sent him
through the wall of the building behind him (and probably through the
next three walls behind him as well). Yeah! He’s not going to be
wearing funky armor or making trouble anytime soon! Man that felt go--
At that point I felt as if the ground dropped away because I felt sick
to my stomach.
For seconds after I did that to him I was perversely pleased--- the my
reality hit me hard.
I didn’t need this now! I had a lover! I had a life! What would she
say? I can’t do this! This CAN’T be happening! Dammit! For years I
wanted all this power, but now that I had it--- all I wanted to do now
was run into Amy’s arms and make it all go away! Have her wake me up,
hold me tight and tell me it was all just a bad dream! I wished I was
in bed, shaking like a little girl in her arms, and all this was just
a fever dream! But it was real--- too damn fucking real!
Quickly I let go of the ground and flew--- god it’s been a long time
since I had the power to do that---- and went straight to Amy’s
office.
-----
I decided to come in from the balcony, which gave her a bit of a shock
at first, but she recovered rather quickly. I just didn’t know how
else to explain this. She might have thought I was lying to her if I
didn’t show her what just happened. I wanted to show her--- be
straight up with her. Tell her the truth.
She stood there, near her desk, and listened to me ramble on for abit.
About how everything was OK this morning, then how I ran into this
Beetle guy, and the power that came from nowhere, and how I got here.
I thought she would be angry at me, or scared, or calling security but
instead she stood there staring.
I knew I was crying, I felt the hot tears flowing down my face
stinging my eyes with their salty content. I was trembling, but I was
too scared to move. I wanted to hold her but I was afraid she’d run
away from me. Finally she held her arms out and spoke softly words
I’ll never ever forget---
“You don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to.”
And, with those words said I fell into her arms crying, as she held me
tight. Eventually she led me to her couch and we just laid there,
shivering, as I held her tight wanting desperately for my powers to go
away--- but they never did, and neither did Amy. As she held me in her
arms she whispered to me her love everlasting, killing any thought
that my nightmare would come true--- that I would be alone forever.
What I felt when I gained powers again was something.
What I felt when Amy swore her undying love no matter what happened
after this moment was everything to me. And regardless of whether I
went back to being a hero or not, I knew I had the most important
thing in the world right here, in my arms. And that’s all that really
mattered to me now.
Powers, at times, is nice. But it doesn’t replace the power of undying
love. Or so it goes at least.
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