NOVEMBER

My hair fell away, my leg bones ached as some stretched and others shrunk, my hips and shoulders popped into new positions, my front paws twisted into strange talons, my muzzle pulled back, and my mind reeled with a new awareness.

Clothes. I needed clothes. I wasn't yet sure why, but it certainly seemed important. The strange woman was, thankfully, holding some out for me.

"They'll change with you," she said as I donned shirt and pants and trousers and shoes and realized that she was a woman, not just a human. And then I realized I was a human. But I wasn't a human. But I was now.

"Why... me?" I forced the words out like vomit after I'd eaten to much grass. I struggled a moment with how to move my legs, then what to do with my arms as I did, then what to do with my arms when I didn't, and wondered how humans lived like this.

"Because you were here when I needed someone." She patted my head, and I shook it off. "Here, put this on as well. You name is Lukas. Lukas Gareau. My brother."

"Why?" That one came easier.

"Because inheritance law is stupid."

I struggled to understand that, even as language was coming easier.

"It's not important. You are my brother, heir to our father, and will leave your home here in my care as your work forces you to live in a different home outside the area. I just need you to last through tonight, then I will return you to your canine form, and leave you meat at the edge of my property on occasion. Deal?"

"Sounds good." It felt almost pleasant to speak now. "Who are you?"

"I am your sister, Diana."

DECEMBER

I was supposed to be hunting deer with the pack, but something had drawn me back to her home. Some instinct, perhaps, of what was to come. As soon as the moon shone, I felt the change begin. It was painful, as much as the first time, but it seemed faster. I was seated on her steps, debating knocking, when she came out and startled at the sight of me.

"I thought I turned you back?"

"You did. But it didn't stick. I am trying to understand why."

"As am I, now that I know about the problem."

"Have you put out any meat?"

"Not as much as I planned. It's been a lean year."

So none, I thought, though my gut said this wasn't why.

"I think I should try changing you back again."

"I'd appreciate it."

JANUARY

I found myself once more at her property. I ate the small scrap of meat, barely a mouthful, before the moon rose. Somehow, I knew it would repulse me after. The pain persisted, but I was certain now it was quicker.

I glanced at the moon, the marched up and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

I opened the door to see her standing at a table with glass bottles and tubes, small fires and a few stone bowls. "I was worried you'd be back. Can't blame my lack of meat now, can you?"

"Ha, no. I know you kept it up. Though you can stop now if you need."

"No, I need to watch you as a wolf. It might help me figure out what I did wrong."

"I'm fine with it, being honest. I kind of enjoy the time as man."

"It's not healthy or safe. I'll sort this out. Just give me more time."

Wow, that is unsettlingly wholesome. Also, I may have cackled along with the Disruptor after reading "Those children will not learn to read!”

Oh, I love how you brought it back around. So so so good.

"So, you found me." I'd be amazed at the tone of defeat if I believed it. She was always a good actor, and while I can tell when one of you is lying (Shakira was wrong, it's the ears that don't lie), I never could get a bead on her.

"No, my usual spot shut down last week. Was the only good Chai latte on the continent." I tried to ignore the hand going for her waist, telling myself it was for a pen, and not her timestone. I resisted eons of muscle memory. Imagine trying to keep your eyes open while sneezing. Not the Mythbusters way, with tape or some object to assist. Just willpower and self-control.

"Martino's, yes. It was the only good thing on the menu." She brought her hand back up, empty, to the computer.

"The raspberry cheesecake scones were good until they dropped them." I failed to avoid looking at her neck for a chain or string her stone could be on. She pretended not to notice. Or maybe she didn't, who can say?

"Scones," she corrected. "But yes, they were good. Not great, certainly not the best, but good."

I waited while she tapped in my order.

"I don't make the drinks here, so they are terrible. But I did make the handpies. The rutabaga is from my own garden." She said it all over my left shoulder. I didn't turn to look, as it could be a distraction. The stone only worked in her hands, so no accomplices could help.

"How can refuse? Do you have two? One for the road." I noticed I could see reflections in the glass of the menu. Nothing stood out behind me. A simple distraction, as I'd guessed.

"Can I get a name for the order?"

"Ah, that old trick," I said, and we both grinned. "Of course. I should have known." It was how we'd ended up here in the first place. Deals with the fae were always a gamble, though some would say we won.

"Brionne work for this one?"

"Good as any."

She gave me the handpies and said, "Thank you, have a fantastic day."

"You, too," I replied and turned to go for the drink pickup and wait for my latte. Unfortunately, that's when I saw it. Over the door, right where she'd looked before. Not her stone, but a simple binding rune. It looked like steam over the coffee cup in the logo. The reflection didn't catch the detail enough. Without stopping or turning back, I whispered, "Well done. How?"

"Motors in the sign, remote in my pocket. Simple enough."

"I just want my latte."

"Fair enough. It's a long road." After a moment, she handed me the finished latte. "How far this time?"

"Can't just let me walk away?"

"I don't trust you to." She pulled her timestone and blasted me.

Back and back to those early days before men had writing, barely had tools and language. She was right about the long road. But at least I got my latte, terrible as it was. The pies were good, though. Not great, certainly not the best, but good.

Tzovinar looked at the body she now inhabited. Male, young, a bit thin and pale for her tastes, but she'd fix that soon enough. Not that she had much choice. How long had she been trapped? At least a century, though likely more. His clothing was strange, and incredibly dark. His fingernails as well, and she thought he was diseased until a check showed it was some sort of paint. Fascinating.

"BOY!" The voice echoed around the chamber. In his mind, she felt him jump, but she kept his body still.

"Yes?" He seemed to still control his mouth. She was certainly weaker than she'd thought.

"Who is your god?"

"Uh, well, that's a big question. I guess, none, really. I'm what you'd call agnostic. Or more apathetic, being honest. I don't have enough time for any sort of God, ya know?"

"I do not," she replied, struggling still to grasp how a man could live with no god.

"Uh, why do you ask?"

"I seek followers of Tzovinar. Surely they are seeking me."

"Tzovinar? That your name? Never heard of you. That Russian?"

"Never heard of me? The Storm Queen? Mistress of Thunder? Daughter of the first gods? The Grand Tempest? Nothing?

"Can't say I have."

"That explains why I'm so weak. Come, I need new followers. Have you more dark and painted allies?"

"Uh, I have couple goth friends, but most aren't."

"That is fine. Any converts are acceptable. The more we have the more power we get."

"Oh I like that plan."

"This is a corpse," Florbeek said. Bear in mind, his name is not actually "Florbeek," but it the closest approximate spelling to the sounds of his name.

"We are aware, sir," Nalpod said. See the note on Florbeek's name? Yeah, that applies to Nalpod's as well.

"We found him like this," Walrus added. His name actually is Walrus. It's a surprising anomaly of linguistics that every planet has at least one language that makes use of "walrus" in some capacity. Theories abound, but no one really cares but the linguists, and the last linguist we all cared about was better known for his fiction writing.

"Well, clearly. He is well decayed."

"Yes, but he is their leader," Walrus tried again. He felt it was important to justify the find as he'd had to do the digging. And by hand as the digging bot had refused to desecrate corpses. He would have to talk about a reprogramming session at the next bot care meeting, though he suspected it would have him watching another sensitivity training.

"So you are saying the humans actively follow this rotted body?"

"Worship might be a better word." Nalpod said, while sliding in front of Walrus. Her partner was sometimes... oversensitive about failure. She'd still not figured how they had screwed up, but this was obviously not right, based on the wobble of Florbeek's flanges. The captain was growing more angry the more Walrus spoke, but her words seemed to have calmed him some. "There are impossible stories of him. One of my favorites is a preposterous claim that he was shot by an assassin, survived, and mocked the man's failure in a speech immediately after. Ah the legends these humans create, embellishing the lives of their heroes."

She had stopped watching Florbeek as she rambled on, or she'd have shut her vocal flap on the word "favorites" on seeing his flanges. They shook like a flag in a hurricane.

"Clearly, this Theodore Roosevelt is not the active leader of these backwards yokels. I'm giving you a second chance here to get it right. Now go."

"Do you want us to put him back?" Walrus pointed at the corpse.

"I don't care, as long as you get it out of my ship," he said, and disappeared through the wall leading to his personal quarters, hoping a soak in some hexane would relieve his stress.

"I told you we had the wrong one," Walrus whispered.

"I know, I know."

"Ok, so you can dig up Franklin yourself."

"Fine, but at least help me put this one back."

My thoughts exactly.

"It's hardly the first time," he says as the smoke clears. "I've played god before when it seemed necessary. It's a hassle to get out of the role, but sometimes, you need a firm hand, a captain for the ship as it were."

The general ordered another volley of missiles. The grunts obeyed, and once more, he was surrounded by explosions, then smoke and dust.

"You can keep this up," he called out in that pleasant voice. "Or we can discuss this without the pointless interruptions. I think it best to save some taxpayer dollars."

The general ordered what was now the sixth volley, and the immortal rolled his eyes. This was it. Right here, this was why he had to take control. Somewhere, they'd fallen into this... Mindless violence.

Once it had been slavery. The monuments were impressive, but soaked in blood. Once it had been gluttony. What was that fool's name? Greek fellow, just massive. Once it had been pure lust. A challenge to beat that one. He could list every sin that humans got lost in, that he'd pulled them back from. And yes, they still struggled with them, but not like the first times. He worked hard to put blocks up. It wasn't easy but it was always worth it.

"General, can you please ask your superiors about this? With any luck—" Volley seven interrupted him.

He was actually prepared for this. He would talk until they ran out of missiles, because that's the one thing that would make this general stop. And that's exactly why he chose this man. It always started by showing the broken strategy fail on him, then he'd get them listening, and he'd show why it didn't really work in any situation. It usually took time to spread the word, to show enough people. He was hoping the internet could help with that this time.

"With any luck, they'll call you an imbecile." Volley eight. It was truly impressive, like the Talmuk monuments. And just like them, he'd tear it down, so no one would even remember what came before except the lessons learned.

Teddy and the Bear, this fall on Netflix.

"So, I'm sure you saw this coming, but we have some questions about your resume," the Amnodyne recruiter said with a chuckle.

"Of course, I'd be worried if you didn't," I replied with a chuckle of my own. "Which one do you want to start with?"

"Let's go for why you left SkyCat."

"Ah, she went for the Federal Reserve. Had herself locked up tight after that, so I had to get a new job. She'll happily vouch for me. I put the prison's number on there."

"And what about Jenerator? I note you worked for her both before and after her turn."

"Yeah, as a villain, it was another arrest. On the hero side, it was just temp work. Research for the Tarvaxi Invasion. My team tagged over a hundred of their spies. But once it was done, they let us go."

"Fair enough. I'm just going to cut to the chase. Most people don't flip back and forth so often. Why should we trust you not to turn again?"

I laughed heartily. Even after hearing this question so many times, it always hit me funny. "I've never turned. I just don't care who's cutting my paycheck. None of y'all are completely evil or good. And I got bills to pay." It was a lie, of course, but a good one. "As for trusting me, you'll see I've never quit a job."

"Okay. Figured that was the case. And yes, everyone we called did praise your work. Except the Perpetually Wailing Maw, but that's understandable. You have the job if you want it." She slid a clipboard over to me, the job offer on it.

I glanced over it before signing, a lesson I learned early in life. When everything matched what I was told, I grabbed a pen and signed.

I guess I should clarify, Amnodyne's one of the biggest employers of superhuman in the world. And one of the biggest exploiters of superhumans, as well. My bosses, my real bosses, were hoping to get some evidence, so I was going in.

Chip looked at the cart. Seven bodies. And that's just the ones they found. There were at least as many unaccounted for. They may even be alive for now, but there was no getting to them. Not without BombarDeer's approval. And the antlered prick wasn't bothering to give it.

Chip had been in the room with the boss, seen the footage of Bandito heading in the mine shaft. They kidnapped his sidekick, seemed like a nice kid, if a touch slow. Were using him as bait for the hero. But they hadn't counted on AcroCat giving him a supersonic lift to the site. Men were still inside, but the boss just slammed the detonator like it was nothing.

The worst part was, even with that, the capes got out. The three henchmen who made it safe? That was all thanks to the kid. All the rest, it seemed, had died. Or would. Unless he took the dustifier beam and got them out. Of course, the boss'd kill him just for thinking it.

He looked at the cart again. There wasn't a face he didn't recognize. He'd eaten meals in these men's homes. Met wives, children, pets. These were friends. He didn't have a choice. He went for the boss's private armory.

"Hello, Charles," BombarDeer's high voice came from behind him. "What is this that I see you doing?"

Chip debated how to answer, before just grabbing the dustifier from the rack and turning to point it at the antlered humanoid. "Can't leave them down there, boss."

"Yes, we can leave them down there most easily by doing nothing. It is more easily done than something, which seems to be what you want to be doing."

He thought about explaining it, but he decided it wouldn't accomplish much. He pulled the trigger and ran. It wouldn't kill his former employer, he knew. He'd seen it survive far worse, but it gave him a clear path and a bit of time.

None of the other henchmen tried to stop him. He was sure they knew what he was going to do. A few gave him half nods. A few more followed, without a word, ready to help. It'd be a fight when BombarDeer recoveres, but they'd have numbers. And he'd already sent a signal from the base to every hero he could think of. They'd be there soon enough.

Mister Mangler had thought he was clever. He'd beat the henchman union, hiring foreign workers as scabs. Not illegals, he was very careful about keeping above board on that front. He even personally helped a few fill out their paperwork.

Carlos Sanchez Rivera was not one of those. He actually was already a citizen, and only took the job to hang out with his friends. Mangler had seen the boy's mother once when Carlos's car was in the shop, and she gave him a ride to work. He'd bought her tamales through Carlos, and the kid loved to tell stories about and what an inspiration she was to him. She'd come over from Cuba (or maybe Puerto Rico, Mangler had honestly just been waiting for Carlos to stop talking already at the time) and made her way as a single mom, working three jobs and somehow finding time to make Carlos see how much she cared for him.

Unfortunately for Mister Mangler, she had the time to do so right now. From what he had gathered, she'd Googled the union rates, and realized Mangler was under paying his men considerably. Hey, he got them good insurance (so did the union, of course). She had called first and got one of the phone reps, who had failed to calm her, and may have even egged her on, likely wanting a raise as well.

Mangler had laughed as she came in, waiving a sandal. He had laughed in his ignorance. All the times he had called people fools, and here he was, greatest fool of them all. His face and arms bloody and bruised, and his ego in similar condition, he had given a raise to Carlos, the workers present in the room, and those in the call center before she finally let him stand. He was actually thankful his Spanish was mediocre, based on the things he'd understood during her tirade. After he stood, she negotiated raises for his entire staff as he wiped tears, snot, and blood of his face. She actually accepted lower than union rates for the non-citizens, though she called him something that got a few gasps, but he would be paying Carlos union rates or higher, going forward. And he would have trouble sleeping without nightmares for the next few months.

"Ok, so you remember how I helped you during the Tarvaxi Invasion, and I didn't just immediately betray you, so you said you'd owe me one?"

Jen took a sip of her beer and braced herself. Doctor Defacer was always a little excitable, but he was especially amped right now, so she knew this was going to be big. She gave a small nod for him to continue.

"So anyway, my college roommate, well this universe's iteration of my college roommate, ok no, actually, I never went to college in my universe, I just bond the Grand Knower of All Things to my mind for a bit. It's OK, he was a jerk and he's fine and we are both better for it. Where was I? Oh yes, this universe's iteration of me's college roommate. That guy is Suprime. You know, the superhero, Suprime?"

"Yup. Real prick."

"Oh? Oh. Well, here I thought it was just me."

"Nah," she chuckled. "You're far from the only prick out there. Just look at my dating history."

"Burning us both? Well played. Anyway, Suprime is going to be here as part of his alter ego's work, and I need to impress him with my villainous prowess. For this universe's me's sake."

"And why are you talking to me?"

"Well, with the new hench union system, I can't afford a femme fatale to help on nonprofit jobs like this."

"Uh-huh. And?"

"I want to call in my favor and have you play the femme fatale for a job I pull to impress Suprime. I just need to trap him and rob a bank. No deaths, no injuries. I'll even release him after."

She took a much larger gulp and finished her beer. She wanted to say no. She could probably weasel her way out of it. But that business with the Tarvaxi was tough, and she had stressed over how to pay him back for a while." Ok, on one condition."

"Name it," he said, already holding out his hand for the shake.

"I choose my own outfit," she said, taking his hand and giving it a good squeeze and one solid pump. She was surprised to find it felt nothing like when she made that deal with a devil last year. At least the Doc didn't remember helping her out of that mess.

Glow sat up nice and straight, just like the nuns forced him to. He held back the shakes, and wore a nervous smile. He took slow, measured breaths and tried to pay attention.

He didn't understand why Mister Mangler had invited him for a villain team up. He wasn't a powerful super. Not a SkyCat or Professor Pain or Shimmer, all of whom were present. He was even pretty sure that old woman by Mangler was Serene, the first supervillainess. Her skin did the ripple effect like in the old news reels, but he only had those old black and white films as reference, and she was much younger back then. If it really was her, Glow was even more certain he didn't belong here.

Glow was young, and hopeful for the future. He wanted to change the world. But he also knew the system well enough to know, you didn't change it on a heroes path. Not with his measly powers. And life had pushed him to villainy, anyway. Back in high school, when people learned about his powers, they always asked him to make fake IDs. He couldn't do fancy watermarks or anything, but he could adjust the colors to change the birth year. It made him money, but the nuns kept a close eye on him, so he never went to the parties his work benefitted.

Once he aged out and was on his own, he struggled to find work, and the hero registry kept pairing him with D-list heroes who did nothing more dangerous than pulling cats out of (short) trees. Mostly they were just folks who'd put on a small show at mall openings and such. Color changes were handy and flashy for that.

Following an accident with one of these heroes, he'd been blacklisted. It wasn't his fault, but he was low enough for them to get away with not caring. He'd tried to find legitimate jobs, but ended up homeless, and lucked into a henchman job with Mirrorer. It was a headache, but it was also a foot in the door.

He'd had a few bosses after that, using his powers to full effect to avoid getting caught when they did. After his latest boss, the Temporagist, had disappeared in a time vortex last week (and the week before and the week before and the week before and) that Mister Mangler had approached him.

Mangler hadn't given a lot of details, just let him know they were putting together a team of high level villains, and Glow should join in. Gave him a time and place, and was gone. Glow was sure it was a mistake, even as he walked in and took a seat.

As the table filled up, he found him self seated between an older man in a Trilby hat whose briefcase kept saying everyone here would die, and a young woman in black techno-armor and a cape, which seemed more trouble than it was worth as she struggled through the crowd and into her chair. The Trilby hat's briefcase had him nervous, but seeing someone else struggling with villainy actually helped him relax.

"Hi," he said once she was seated.

She looked shocked and perhaps a little nervous, though he was hardly a good judge. After a second, she speak in a mechanical voice, "Hello."

"I'm Glow." He pointed at his name tag.

"Demolitia, ending t-i-a," she replied, looking around. "Where did you get a name tag?"

"Oh, I just made it. A lot of places have ID badges, so I can just..." He changed the tag to look like a photo ID badge for Amnodyne. "...and I can usually walk right in."

"An illusionist?" This came from the Trilby hat. Not the man, but the hat itself, though Glow almost missed it, as the man's mouth open and closed. It was more like a puppet than actual talking, however.

"No, I just can change the color of objects. Nothing living." He'd learned to give that caveat in the early days, when kids at school wanted him to give them tattoos.

"Just? Don't sell yourself short. Illusionists are a dime a dozen. Don't think I've ever seen your powers, son. And I've seen a great many powers."

"How large an object?" The woman asked.

"Uh, I'm not sure. I've changed cars before, that's probably the biggest I've done." Glow found he was embarrassed about never testing his limits.

"And do things change back after a time?"

"No, not that I've seen." He felt even more anxious as she reached over and started looking closely at the name tag still pinned to his chest.

"Mind of a scientist as ever, Litia? Go easy on the lad," the Trilby said.

She backed off, now embarassed herself. They all sat in silence for a moment before Mangler called the meeting to order, but as he did, she leaned over to whisper to Glow, "One more question? Must it be colors visible to you? Or can you use microwave or radio? Maybe make something invisible?"

Glow found the idea stunned him too much to be embarrassed at not considering it before. He couldn't wait to experiment. Only half listening to Mangler discuss something about eliminating some A-list hero or another, he removed his name tag, holding it where he could see. Then suddenly, he couldn't. Then he brought it back. I was just a little into the infrared, as he wasn't sure of the dangers, but it was enough.

Suddenly, he didn't feel so out of place among these stronger villains. In fact, for the first time in his life, he actually felt super.

Captain Cavity was on his knees, begging, not for his life, but for something far more... well, important isn't the right word, but it sure seemed that way. He was ignoring Admiral Art Deco, focused on his henchmen. Or rather, Baron Beak's henchmen.

"You can't do this to me. After all the jobs we've done? All the fights we've fought?"

"Sorry, boss," the obvious head mook said. "But we got families. Marco's boy needs braces. That stuff's ain't cheap, yeah?"

Marco gives a nod, "And it ain't like we never talked about it with you."

The Admiral gave a cough, trying to get their attention. They gave him a quick glance, enough to show they knew he was there, then Cavity turned back to his former employees.

"I told you, dental is expensive!"

"Yeah, we get it," the head mook responded. "But the Baron is willing to pay that expense."

"What if... what if I give you guys the rest of the banking holidays off? That's four more days a year!"

"I'm sorry to interrupt—"

"Can it, Art. We'll get you in a moment." Cavity didn't even to to face the hero as he said it.

"—but am I to understand you aren't pro iding dental for your henchmen? You, Captain Cavity, aren't–actually, now I say that, it makes some sense."

"Shush!"

"Hol'up, boss. Is that what this is about?" A third mook asked, looking up from some paperwork. Art was pretty sure he was named Dean.

"What?"

"Cap, I've seen the budget," Dean said, handing the papers off to Marco. "You could afford to give us dental. We even floated different plans by you. Are you holding out just because of your shtick?"

"... No. That'd be... crazy?"

"Then what's the reason?" Art asked on the henchmen's behalf.

"I told you to shush."

"No, boss, answer the question." Head mook said it with a smirk.

"Alright, fine," Cap said and stood up. "Yes. I can't give you dental because of my theme. I'd be mocked by the mad scientist community."

"Ok boys, let's go. There's nothing more for us here. Admiral, let him have it."

A look of fear suddenly came over Captain Cavity's face as Art stepped toward him and the henchmen stepped back.

"Whatever happened to tow weeks notice?" The villain asked.

Art Deco paused so they could answer.

"That's a courtesy we reserve for a boss who cares."

Art gave a half nod to them men, then got to work.

This was it. Commander Collapser had his nemesis, Dr. Defacer, on the ropes. In a few more hits, it was all over.

Collapser had decided enough was enough, and one way or another, he'd end it all today. Either the Doc died, or he did. While it's easy to see the final straw, it was hard to put thing into his perspective. After all, Dr. Defacer had never killed anyone. Not directly.

But after years of little embarrassments, of failure after failure to stop him, of watching him walk out of every trial a free man, well, it adds up. And it was hardly the first time Collapser had killed a villain.

Now, here, he had his foe on the ground, saw the fear in the little man's eyes, and raised his battle hammer for the final blow.

"Goodbye, Doc," he said, starting the downswing.

"Bonjour," came from behind him. Or rather, "Bahn jor." It was a woman's voice with a deep Texas drawl. He'd deal with her in a moment.

Except, in a moment, he found he was sweeping down on Dr. Defacer with a feather duster, instead of a hammer. He chucked aside a went to grab a chunk of the surrounding rubble when he noticed his gloves were gone.

His whole outfit, in fact, was changed. No longer his suit, specially designed by top government scientists, but a rather revealing maid uniform, or rather, Spirit Halloween's idea of a maid uniform. He turned and saw the woman, in the standard Defacer mook getup. He went to charge her, but was suddenly aware of the sound of a news helicopter. He stopped and stared at them for just a moment, but it was moment enough for the Doc to activate a teleporter and escape, taking his henchwoman with him.

His career was ruined after that, his face having been revealed when his mask changed to the little white headband thing. Family and friends had to go into the protection program. But being honest, he didn't care about that. No, it was the clip, shown over and over and over again. The whole world had seen that one, last, crowning moment of embarrassment.

He would need to go rogue, make a new suit on his own, so he could get his revenge. He'd end Defacer yet. But first he'd have to deal with that woman.

"Ah, DisTress, my old nem—whoa! Oof! Yowch!" Professor Pain stumbled off the platform as Herniac slipped on his own mop, slamming into his bosses back. On the bright side, it move the Professor out of DisTress's line of fire, preventing a blast of laser breath from striking him. Not that either the villain or his henchman noticed.

"Herniac, why are you mopping when a hero is in the lair?"

"Gotta keep the place looking nice for company, sir," the henchman replied. He also attempted a salute, hitting off his helmet and dropping the mop. He bent to grab the mop, slipped, and kicked the helmet back. Just as DisTress was running at them, she planted a foot in the sliding helmet, fell, and caught her face on the mop handle as Herniac lifted it as a brace to aid his own recovery.

"Oh dear," Pain said, looking at the unconscious hero. "Well, let's get her restrained. I'll have to wait for her to come around before I do my monologue."

"Understood, sir," came the reply from the ground, as Herniac had fallen once more when the mop was struck. He attempted a salute from his reclined position, which seemed to go well, even with the mop getting knocked away from him, stopping perfectly blocking the door, and later preventing other heroes from entering in time to stop the missile launch.

Fortunately, by that point, the Professor had sent Herniac on a coffee run, so the heroes did disarm the missile before it blew up the Orphan and Puppy Hospital. The coffee would also be thwarted, spilled in the hallway, but it was for the best, as the Professor certainly needed to cut back on the caffeine.

"But how am I supposed to afford two at these wages? And with insurance?" SkyCat flipped back and forth through the pages on the clipboard. "I guess I can do without a steady guard, and just hire for jobs as they come."

"That is certainly an option, as article 23 lays out," the union rep responded, guiding her to the right page. "But bear in mind, you do need to pay at least one month's wages, so you'll want to ensure the profits on the job are worth the cost."

"Profits? Cost? Are you trying to make it a business?!"

"Ma'am, I understand this new system can be upsetting—"

"Upsetting is Admiral Art Deco catching you in the middle of a bank robbery. His name is awful and his costume is worse, but he's still a serious threat. No, this... This is an outraged. An outrage! I will have your head on a platter! I will destroy your entire organization and watch it burn."

"You and what army?" No laughter, it was delivered so dry, she almost responded. But then she say his face. The rep gave an amazingly punchable grin, but she somehow restrained herself.

"I stand by what I said. I may need you now, but know that you will rue this day."

"I'm sure I shall, but for now, let's try to see what hiring options can meet your needs."

Dang it. I hate to miss a pun that good.

Never watched, but based on my limited knowledge, I'd guess the answer isn't, "He said 'screw this noise' and declined the crown to go back home and hook up with his childhood friend." I mean, this is a Disney-esque world with royals singing and befriending animals, so we get happy ending.

"So, I may have done a tiny, morally questionable thing with your DNA," I said, holding out the envelope.
"Jeez, do I want to know?"
"It was just one of those test kits, ya know? I figure, we know you're adopted. And the friendly animal stuff has been ramping up lately. And you've always been a great singer. And, well, you know I'm a curious sort of person. But I didn't want to see it without you. And can you just take it already?" The last bit was in mock anger and real frustration.
"Ok, ok," Jack replied, grabbing and opening it in one swift motion. He glanced over the results, and I moved to read over his shoulder. "Um, I don't understand half of this, but... Can I ask how you chose this DNA testing service?"
"Ah, yeah. That's definitely relevant. I mean, they're mostly used to check if... collector's items?"
"That sounds wrong but go on."
"Well, to see if those are legitimate. But because of that, they have the highest number of... celebrities, and rich people, sports guys and such."
"Such as in, say, royalty?" They just had to add a crown to the logo.
"I mean, like I said, the animals and the singing. I mean, there are three butterflies on you right now. And you have impossible upper body strength. Not that I'm complaining." He blushed. I probably did, too.
"Listen, Rita, thanks. I think it's really creepy what you did, but I also appreciate it. Don't do it to anyone else, okay?"
"Gasp!" I said the word while pretending to clutch at pearls. "What kind of women do you take me for?"
"Oh, you have been spending too much time with my ma," he chuckled and handed me the paper. "Now, do you understand any of this?"
"Yeah, let me just-oh my... Um..."
"What?"
"Do you want to know who your mother is?" "Really?"
"Yeah, looks like one of the princes isn't as charming as he thought." "What? Oh... Oh!" "Good news though, Queen Afrodille was royalty even before her marriage, so you are, technically, a prince."
"Illegitimate prince."
"Hey, let's not split hairs."

Remember, for rogue vs rouge, it's the vowel before "G" that makes the sound. Too late to correct now, but it's the trick that helped me finally get them straight.

Well, they say never meet your heroes, but it sure is fun seeing other folks meet theirs.

Oh, this... This is amazing. I want so much more.