Chapter Fifty-Four - Chaotic Evil Children

Jezebelle was, in her mother’s own words, a very ambitious young woman who would either go far, or burn herself trying. She had a somewhat rocky relationship with her mother.

That ambition was partly borne from that. She wanted to get away from home. Her life at home wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t idyllic, and she always thought that she deserved better. At some point that had crystallised into her growing up into a hard working, determined student who went to school knowing that she’d pull every string and befriend anyone that stood in her path to greatness.

And then she’d gotten a super power.

It was almost a joke. So much practice socialising, so much hard work, and then she’d just been handed over the greatest boon anyone could ask for short of being born the heir of some great fortune.

Now she spent every waking moment aware of a sort of pressure in the back of her mind. Not painful, just always there. And whenever she felt like it, she could fling forward a ball of glittering light that would explode on command, to dazzle and surprise.

Honestly, it was kind of a lame power. Her light balls were barely strong enough to crack a window when thrown and the explosion they let out couldn’t even ruffle her hair from five metres away.

She had bought fireworks at a gas station and played with those for a bit, just to confirm that they were, in fact, stronger than her own light balls. The only advantage she had was the strange focus-stealing effect of her power.

Well, that and a few little tweaks. She had the impression she was a little bit stronger now, physically. No more than if she’d been working out more regularly though. She could also stare into the sun without any harm, and her vision adapted to light and darkness much faster than before.

All in all, not as impressive as flight or laser-eyes or super-strength, but she’d work with it.

She had plans. Meet the local heroes. Make a name for herself as an up and comer, make friends with people who might be stronger but who weren’t as socially adept. Then ride that gravy train into the bright future.

Then the Boss and her army of brats happened.

Jezebelle was a mature enough woman to understand that blaming one woman and a bunch of--were they even teens?--preteens for all of her troubles was immature. But she could trace most of her recent ills to the Boss’ presence.

So she was going to do what any mature, self-confident young lady would do. She would politely confront the Boss and figure out just what in the heck was going on.

That required that she actually find the Boss though.

She could track down Emily easily enough, but the last time she’d talked to Emily the girl had messed up her plans terribly right after. It was possible that she didn’t appreciate anyone interfering in her civilian life, which Jezebelle supposed was fair.

Jezebelle and Glamazon weren’t even two sides of the same coin, they were the same person with a slight wardrobe change.

Emily kept her identity as the Boss a bit further apart. It was... probably not a terrible idea. Emily had managed to insert herself as the leader of a whole team. Jezebelle had done a little digging and she couldn’t find anything on any of the brats that followed the Boss around. For that matter, she knew the HRT didn’t have anything on them either. It had gotten to the point where if they wanted to find out, they’d have to start actively looking and that was usually a move only reserved for particularly violent villains.

As long as everyone could take off the mask and go back home, then both the heroes and the villains had good reason to pull their punches.

Long story short, when she heard that the brats--sans Boss--were patrolling, she went out to meet them.

And that had been something of a mistake.

“Oh hey, it’s sparkly lady,” the bear-themed girl said while pointing right at her. She rubbed at her nose while giving Glamazon the stink eye. “What’ch’a doing out here? Huh? Trying to be all heroic?”

“Hello,” Jezebelle said. She put on her most winning customer-service smile. She hadn’t been able to go to college straight from highschool so she had spent two years working reception. It was awful, but also decent experience when it came to dealing with people.

The brats weren’t alone. There was the bear girl, Ursa Minor, Owlwatch in her leather coat and ‘I’m a little punk’ outfit, two of the three bandit girls and... another hero? The woman was about Jezebelle’s own age. Taller, dark skin, fashionable enough jeans and top with a coat on, and she had a half-mask on. Something about the way she dressed suggested that she wasn’t a mask but more of a... minion?

Maybe it was the baseball bat. That wasn’t a terribly heroic kind of weapon.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why a troupe of children would have someone a little older along with them. This girl was either the Boss’s newest hero team-mate, or a babysitter.

“Hey girls,” Jezebelle said. She smiled and gave them a little wave. “I was just passing through and thought I’d see how you were doing. Are you out on patrol?”

The punk girl, Owlwatch, narrowed her eyes. “Bullpoop,” she said. “I bet you're here to spy on us.”

Glamazon rolled her eyes. She wasn’t here to spy on the kids, she was here to spy on the Boss. Or... something close to spying, at least. The boss had interfered with her plans a few times already. Jezebelle was old enough to know that things rarely, if ever, went according to plan, but still, the multiple interferences were starting to bother her. Worse, they were making her look bad.

If there was one thing she couldn’t afford at the moment, it was looking bad, or worse, incompetent. She needed to find out what the Boss was planning so that she could work her way around that.

She could observe the Boss, chart her actions, create something of a profile of how she acted, then determine what her goals were from that. Or she could just ask.

She was a hero after all, and asking politely seemed like the heroic thing to do.

“I’m not here to spy on you,” she said. “But... well, do you mind if I accompany you on your patrol? I’m sure if something comes up one more set of hands won’t hurt?”

The girls looked at each other, clearly weighing their options. They wanted to say no, that much was easy to read in their body language, but could they?

“No. Go home,” Bandit said.

Jezebelle blinked.

She had been operating under the assumption that the kids would act... well, like adults did when shoved into an awkward situation. If you cut in line in front of most people they’d grumble and glare at your back, but they wouldn’t tell you off.

Kids didn’t have an awkwardness filter. “Uh... well, what if you need help?” she asked.

All four children snorted at the same time. Then the bear-girl pointed to her. “If we need more glitter we’ll call you.”

“Yeah, if we’re throwing a birthday party and we need fireworks, we’ll let you know,” Owlwatch said.

Jezebelle felt herself flushing. These kids were just... mean.

“We’ll let you work with us if you give us your wallet,” one of the Bandit girls said.

Jezebelle didn’t know what to say to that. The others were nodding along. “What would you even do with my wallet?”

“Buy ice cream and steal your identity,” Bandit said. She opened her dollar sign bag and held the opening out towards Jezebelle, as if she fully expected her to just toss in her stuff.

“I’m not giving you my wallet.”

“Hey, you’re Glamazon, yeah?” the possible-babysitter asked.

“Yes, yes I am,” Jezebelle said. She stood a little taller, hands going to her hips in the standard heroic pose. “Did you want a signature?”

The girl shrugged. “Maybe later.”

“Hey!” Owlwatch said. “No consorting with the enemy... unless you’re trying to seduce them into a nefarious scheme, in which case it’s okay to consort with them a little.”

“Or if you’re consorting with their sidekicks to steal them,” the other Bandit pointed out.

Jezebelle felt the stirrings of a headache starting.

“Okay,” the minion said. “So, see that corner store right there?” She pointed past Jezebelle’s shoulder to a store on the corner. It was a gas-station convenience stop. “Watch the brats while they terrorize the place. I need to make a phone call. Thanks!” And with that, the young woman walked off and into an alley.

“What?” Jezebelle asked.

She looked at the four girls staring back at her.

“How much candy money do you have?” Ursa Minor asked.

“None!” Jezebelle said. She had cash, of course, but it wasn’t--

“She’s lying! She has plenty. Come on!” Owlwatch said.

With a scream, the girls charged towards the shop, leaving Jezebelle planted right there on her lonesome.

“Wait, I’m not actually responsible for you, right?” she called after the children before she sprinted after them. “I said wait!”

What kind of rag-tag mess of a team did the Boss operate?!

***