~Those are nice shoes.~
She had just gotten done with the shower and finished trimming her hair. She hated that about taking showers. Her hair had this annoying tendency to grow when she showered. Not like a little bit, but A LOT and all at once. She thought it was because she kept her hair in its 'wilted' state and when it got rehydrated it just grew in response to make up for lost time. If she wanted it to return to 'normal', this required her to wait at least an hour after showering. When her hair was wet it turned green and looked more like foliage than coiffure. If it was really wet, it took on the appearance of dangling seaweed. It also turned a deep green that was capable of photosynthesis, a handy ability if she wanted to save money by skimping on her food budget.
So after each shower she would have to trim her hair back down to its proper length and then spend the next hour drying her hair with a towel. She was just grateful this only happened to the hair on top of her head. She would sometimes have nightmares about her armpit hair growing to ludicrous lengths and people making fun of her for it. Shaving all her body hair was something she did daily to the point of neuroticism because of this phobia.
Now you'd think to yourself, ~Hey, just use a hair dryer.~ Bad idea. Myrtle had a weakness and that was high temperatures. A common hair dryer doesn't dry her out, but cause her to wilt and her skin to become brittle. Exposed long enough, it could actually be fatal. In spite of that, she still wanted to become a cape more than anything. She knew she had some serious drawbacks, but she had real strengths as well. She had come here on the government section ten program to become that hero. She knew it was going to be tough. She passed and became officially registered, but she didn't understand that there was also an unofficial 'selection' process.
If you went out to patrol the streets alone, you had a tendency to get harassed by the local police. If you were in a group that wasn't popular, that happened as well. It took a long time for a group's reputation to grow to the point law enforcement stopped getting in your way. Why was that, you ask? Well, some of it is a matter of only wanting heroes who aren't idiots on the streets. The other part of it was good old fashion corruption. Get in close with a cop, give him some kick backs, and suddenly you get tips on high paying bounties. Nobody wants some snot nosed punk stealing their meal tickets.
So the smart option was, sign on with an established superhero group and get your sea legs that way. Easy enough, right?
Except that all the groups that had already 'made it' didn't take on new aspirants. The groups that were taking on people either used you up and spit you out, or they only took on people who were really powerful. Myrtle was more of a glass cannon. She was getting sick of being used as spear carrier. Not to mention the fact that it seemed that no matter how good you were, or how popular your group, if you didn't have the right publicist, you weren't going ANYWHERE in the superhero business.
She thought most superhero groups got money from bounties and government subsidies. Yes, there was some serious cash to be made that way, but it turns out most of the money is made from donations from wealthy patrons and sponsors. The Caretakers didn't need them, but most other groups did. Some of the deals were terrible. The group she had just quit that morning had taken on a sponsorship from Hero Cereal.
She had no intention of putting a product logo on her costume.
Section ten housing existed for meta humans for one important reason. Provide them with a minimum standard of living to prevent them from getting so desperate as to become super villains. Alas, they only subsidized you so long and eventually the money will run out. Not that Myrtle would consider becoming a super villain as an option, but she was starting to understand why so many people seem to fall into that line of work. Normal people got jealous of metas and unions actively discriminated against them with the war cry, 'They're Taking Our Jobs'. It would be rather simple to take work, 'under the table', except those jobs were very suspect. She'd been offered such work twice so far. There were always recruiters hanging around bars where the bottom rung metas hung out. As bad as things were getting, she wasn't desperate enough to 'hench', as they say.
Yet.
It was looking like she wasn't going to get her big break after all. She didn't want to go back home, but maybe working on her mother's farm was just her lot in life. It had been four months and she was getting nowhere. The only good thing to happen to her was the hot guy next door. Well, not that hot, but, he was at least willing to flirt back. Was it flirting? Didn't matter. She doubted it would go anywhere. She just wasn't the type to have that happen to her.
She was sad. She was depressed. She had spent the morning getting drunk and watching porn, then she got sick and puked on herself. She cleaned herself up in the shower, trimmed her locks, flushed the extra down the toilet, then started the long process of drying off her hair so it would return to its usual dull brown.
Except there was a pair of black leather men's dress shoes on the floor in front of her.
With her towel still around her head, she slowly looked up. There were legs above those shoes, then hips covered my grey slacks, then an absolutely fabulously (and completely naked!) chiseled chest, and finally a beatific face the likes of which she had only seen in Japanese anime. Her eyes darted to the left. The central figurine to her collection was missing. Her favorite to be specific. The one she had fantasized over for years now. Her dream husbando, as it were. She rubbed her eyes and shook her foggy head as if that could have any hope of accelerating her recovery from a hangover.
"Jumping Jesus Jiminy-"
"-Cricket Christ on a Crutch!"
Jack heard Myrtle exclaim from under the towel she was using to dry her hair. Jack had covered his eyes with his hand and was trying to look at her through his fingers to limit what he saw while also trying to keep track of her in case she flipped out. Jack winced and held up his other hand flat towards her, "Uh. Look. Please allow me to explain!"
Myrtle pointed a finger trembling with rage at Jack, He heard her ask the accusatory question, "...Golden Dawn?" Clearly demanding to know if he was the one who had done something to her Golden Dawn model. Jack considered teleporting out, but came to the conclusion that it was a far smarter move to just bite the bullet and deal with the consequences. Hopefully there was a way to come to some sort of equitable arrangement and thus keep his reputation intact.
Jack sighed, dropped his head forward and nodded, "Yes."
Myrtle had heard of this happening before. It didn't usually happen to adults, but it did happen. The story goes, a child with really high monads had a beloved toy, or doll, or stuffed animal, or something with deep emotional value. As their powers awaken, they would, somehow, imbue the inanimate object with power and thus bring it to life. She had never heard of it happening this late in someone's life, and certainly not to a hentai anime action figure...
But there was a first time for everything!
However, she shouldn't jump to conclusions. Clearly the correct course of action would be to ask. With a finger trembling in fear, she raised it to point at him. She swallowed and managed to squeak out the question, "a-a-are you Golden Dawn?" The first two words came out as barely a whisper. The angel before her, still holding a hand over his face, with the other one held out flat to her just like the very shy Golden Dawn was apt to do, gracefully bowed his head in subservience to her and answered with his deep, melodic voice, "Yes."
Jack heard the towel drop to the floor in stunned silence.
~Oh crap. She is not taking this well? I don't have much money! I wonder-~ His thought of trying to figure out what to offer her as compensation was interrupted. With no warning, Myrtle launched herself at Jack. Jack's initial reaction was to do nothing because, hey, short woman. What's she gonna do?
He was surprised by her speed, her strength, and even more by her long green hair that was now hanging down to surround his head and block his view of the rest of the room. This was because he was now flat on his back, spread eagle across the bed. Myrtle was straddling his chest and pinning his arms at the wrists next to his head. It took only a moment for Jack to find himself staring up at her with wide eyes and a very shocked expression upon his face.
While he was trying to formulate a question, the two trees on either side of the bed reached out with long tendrils and grasped both of Jack's wings quite firmly. A quick glance to each side confirmed this, right before his attention was forcibly returned to Myrtle. This was because she suddenly leaned down, got nose to nose to him, and spoke with the most thirsty look in her eyes that Jack had ever seen in a woman.
"Your first command is to take my virginity!"
~Those are nice shoes.~
She had just gotten done with the shower and finished trimming her hair. She hated that about taking showers. Her hair had this annoying tendency to grow when she showered. Not like a little bit, but A LOT and all at once. She thought it was because she kept her hair in its 'wilted' state and when it got rehydrated it just grew in response to make up for lost time. If she wanted it to return to 'normal', this required her to wait at least an hour after showering. When her hair was wet it turned green and looked more like foliage than coiffure. If it was really wet, it took on the appearance of dangling seaweed. It also turned a deep green that was capable of photosynthesis, a handy ability if she wanted to save money by skimping on her food budget.
So after each shower she would have to trim her hair back down to its proper length and then spend the next hour drying her hair with a towel. She was just grateful this only happened to the hair on top of her head. She would sometimes have nightmares about her armpit hair growing to ludicrous lengths and people making fun of her for it. Shaving all her body hair was something she did daily to the point of neuroticism because of this phobia.
Now you'd think to yourself, ~Hey, just use a hair dryer.~ Bad idea. Myrtle had a weakness and that was high temperatures. A common hair dryer doesn't dry her out, but cause her to wilt and her skin to become brittle. Exposed long enough, it could actually be fatal. In spite of that, she still wanted to become a cape more than anything. She knew she had some serious drawbacks, but she had real strengths as well. She had come here on the government section ten program to become that hero. She knew it was going to be tough. She passed and became officially registered, but she didn't understand that there was also an unofficial 'selection' process.
If you went out to patrol the streets alone, you had a tendency to get harassed by the local police. If you were in a group that wasn't popular, that happened as well. It took a long time for a group's reputation to grow to the point law enforcement stopped getting in your way. Why was that, you ask? Well, some of it is a matter of only wanting heroes who aren't idiots on the streets. The other part of it was good old fashion corruption. Get in close with a cop, give him some kick backs, and suddenly you get tips on high paying bounties. Nobody wants some snot nosed punk stealing their meal tickets.
So the smart option was, sign on with an established superhero group and get your sea legs that way. Easy enough, right?
Except that all the groups that had already 'made it' didn't take on new aspirants. The groups that were taking on people either used you up and spit you out, or they only took on people who were really powerful. Myrtle was more of a glass cannon. She was getting sick of being used as spear carrier. Not to mention the fact that it seemed that no matter how good you were, or how popular your group, if you didn't have the right publicist, you weren't going ANYWHERE in the superhero business.
She thought most superhero groups got money from bounties and government subsidies. Yes, there was some serious cash to be made that way, but it turns out most of the money is made from donations from wealthy patrons and sponsors. The Caretakers didn't need them, but most other groups did. Some of the deals were terrible. The group she had just quit that morning had taken on a sponsorship from Hero Cereal.
She had no intention of putting a product logo on her costume.
Section ten housing existed for meta humans for one important reason. Provide them with a minimum standard of living to prevent them from getting so desperate as to become super villains. Alas, they only subsidized you so long and eventually the money will run out. Not that Myrtle would consider becoming a super villain as an option, but she was starting to understand why so many people seem to fall into that line of work. Normal people got jealous of metas and unions actively discriminated against them with the war cry, 'They're Taking Our Jobs'. It would be rather simple to take work, 'under the table', except those jobs were very suspect. She'd been offered such work twice so far. There were always recruiters hanging around bars where the bottom rung metas hung out. As bad as things were getting, she wasn't desperate enough to 'hench', as they say.
Yet.
It was looking like she wasn't going to get her big break after all. She didn't want to go back home, but maybe working on her mother's farm was just her lot in life. It had been four months and she was getting nowhere. The only good thing to happen to her was the hot guy next door. Well, not that hot, but, he was at least willing to flirt back. Was it flirting? Didn't matter. She doubted it would go anywhere. She just wasn't the type to have that happen to her.
She was sad. She was depressed. She had spent the morning getting drunk and watching porn, then she got sick and puked on herself. She cleaned herself up in the shower, trimmed her locks, flushed the extra down the toilet, then started the long process of drying off her hair so it would return to its usual dull brown.
Except there was a pair of black leather men's dress shoes on the floor in front of her.
With her towel still around her head, she slowly looked up. There were legs above those shoes, then hips covered my grey slacks, then an absolutely fabulously (and completely naked!) chiseled chest, and finally a beatific face the likes of which she had only seen in Japanese anime. Her eyes darted to the left. The central figurine to her collection was missing. Her favorite to be specific. The one she had fantasized over for years now. Her dream husbando, as it were. She rubbed her eyes and shook her foggy head as if that could have any hope of accelerating her recovery from a hangover.
"Jumping Jesus Jiminy-"
"-Cricket Christ on a Crutch!"
Jack heard Myrtle exclaim from under the towel she was using to dry her hair. Jack had covered his eyes with his hand and was trying to look at her through his fingers to limit what he saw while also trying to keep track of her in case she flipped out. Jack winced and held up his other hand flat towards her, "Uh. Look. Please allow me to explain!"
Myrtle pointed a finger trembling with rage at Jack, He heard her ask the accusatory question, "...Golden Dawn?" Clearly demanding to know if he was the one who had done something to her Golden Dawn model. Jack considered teleporting out, but came to the conclusion that it was a far smarter move to just bite the bullet and deal with the consequences. Hopefully there was a way to come to some sort of equitable arrangement and thus keep his reputation intact.
Jack sighed, dropped his head forward and nodded, "Yes."
Myrtle had heard of this happening before. It didn't usually happen to adults, but it did happen. The story goes, a child with really high monads had a beloved toy, or doll, or stuffed animal, or something with deep emotional value. As their powers awaken, they would, somehow, imbue the inanimate object with power and thus bring it to life. She had never heard of it happening this late in someone's life, and certainly not to a hentai anime action figure...
But there was a first time for everything!
However, she shouldn't jump to conclusions. Clearly the correct course of action would be to ask. With a finger trembling in fear, she raised it to point at him. She swallowed and managed to squeak out the question, "a-a-are you Golden Dawn?" The first two words came out as barely a whisper. The angel before her, still holding a hand over his face, with the other one held out flat to her just like the very shy Golden Dawn was apt to do, gracefully bowed his head in subservience to her and answered with his deep, melodic voice, "Yes."
Jack heard the towel drop to the floor in stunned silence.
~Oh crap. She is not taking this well? I don't have much money! I wonder-~ His thought of trying to figure out what to offer her as compensation was interrupted. With no warning, Myrtle launched herself at Jack. Jack's initial reaction was to do nothing because, hey, short woman. What's she gonna do?
He was surprised by her speed, her strength, and even more by her long green hair that was now hanging down to surround his head and block his view of the rest of the room. This was because he was now flat on his back, spread eagle across the bed. Myrtle was straddling his chest and pinning his arms at the wrists next to his head. It took only a moment for Jack to find himself staring up at her with wide eyes and a very shocked expression upon his face.
While he was trying to formulate a question, the two trees on either side of the bed reached out with long tendrils and grasped both of Jack's wings quite firmly. A quick glance to each side confirmed this, right before his attention was forcibly returned to Myrtle. This was because she suddenly leaned down, got nose to nose to him, and spoke with the most thirsty look in her eyes that Jack had ever seen in a woman.
"Your first command is to take my virginity!"
