Oh What a Night by the Four Seasons was playing about as loud as Sid’s radio would go.  Sid was in the center of the room dancing—sort of.  He was swinging his wide butt, which was actually a bit too small in proportion to the rest of him, back and forth.  His arms were above his head like a stripper showing off a new boob job.

“Shit, Sid!” she yelled.  “Nobody needs to see that!”

Sid jumped and turned around, then blushed.  “I didn’t hear you come in!”  He stepped over to the radio and turned the volume way down.  “I didn’t hear you come in,” he repeated.

Xochitl handed him the paperback book.

“H.P. Lovecraft?”

“Michael Whelan is the cover artist,” she replied.  “I want to use this, this, and this.”

“That’s pretty dark.”

“I’m pretty dark.”

He nodded while shrugging.  “Alright.  Get in the chair.”

The tattooist worked all morning on her arm, stopping only to walk a fiery redhead and her boyfriend through a selection of fairies sitting on mushrooms, and then scheduling them for the next day.  When he was done, Xochitl’s entire right arm was completely covered in an intricate panorama of the macabre.  In between Stephen King’s head and Marilyn Monroe’s feet was the shape of a human cocooned in a spider web, the bright red arachnid crawling across him the only color in the whole sleeve.  Between Batman and Betty Page, whose nether regions were covered by the 75th Ranger Regiment banner, was a pile of grinning skulls and a tree whose trunk was made up of gasping mouths and ogling eyes.  The entire thing was tied together with a background of bats, spider webs, and tentacles.  Only the lacy edging at her wrist and shoulder were not images of horror and even they seemed now somehow threatening.

“That’s definitely my best work,” said Sid, as he slathered on antibacterial gel.  “I’ll have Terry over here at noon tomorrow.”

“You can’t wait until Monday?”

“I’d really like to get it done.  I need to get my signs and ads done.  I’m losing money.”

“Fine.”

“And um…”

“What?” she asked.

“You’re going to get cleaned up, right?  You look… bedraggled.”

“Fuck you, Sid.  Bed… that’s not even a real word.”

“Don’t be like that, Xochitl,” Sid whined.  “You know you’re my perfect woman.”

Xochitl rolled her eyes, but she could tell by the breathless way that he said it that Sid was completely serious.

“You can drive my truck out to get your hair and I’ll set up some time at the spa there for you too.  It’s my treat.”

“Fine.  I’ll leave right now.  I don’t want to look bedwrangled.”

Sid smiled meekly and handed her his keys.

Stella relaxed at the sidewalk café just across the street from Turvy. She was wearing jeans, a white top, and a Cubs cap and could have been any attractive young woman. Her cell phone rang just as the waiter staggered out with a tray containing two chicken Caesar wraps, a steak quesadilla, two bacon double cheeseburgers, an Italian beef sandwich, a walnut-tuna salad sandwich, a cob salad, and a French dip. As he began arraying the food around her, she pulled the phone from her pocket and slid it open.

“Hello Irving.”

“Stella baby! Irving is so flattered that you’ve given him his own ring tone.”

“I didn’t give you your own ring-tone, Irving. I just knew you were going to call me. The

Turvy people are pissed that I didn’t wear that suit, aren’t they?”

“Irving is not their people, baby. Irving is your people. Irving cares about what Stella cares about, and what Stella cares about is being on the New York Times list, and guess what?”
Stella waited a beat before asking “What?”

“All American Girl is on the list!”

“No fricking way!”

“Yes baby! You are on the list my sassy mega-girl, and not at one hundred either. No, you debuted at number ninety eight!”

“You’re fricking kidding me! Wait, did somebody die?”

“Nobody died. Well yes, some people did die, but that’s not why you made the list. You made the list because you kicked the crap out of some power-suited baddies and saved America!”

“Did Skygirl make the list too?”

“Yes, Skygirl did make the list and that is what Irving really called about.”

“Where did she debut?”

“Skygirl is not important. At least she should not be important, but you are making her important by letting her in on your turf. Chicago is All American Girl’s territory. Why are you letting her steal your thunder, my girl?”
Stella was silent for a moment.

“Did you hear me, Baby? Are you still there? Is Irving talking to a dead line?”

“Yes, I’m still here. Where is she?”

“She’s number ninety seven.”

“Damn it!”

“Irving feels your pain, baby. So why are you letting this chick hang out with you?”

“It’s just… well, it just kind of happened, Irving. She sort of saved my life and then she was all nice and stuff, and the next thing I know I’m living with her.”

“Irving understands baby. That’s how it was with his second wife. But you cannot let her steal your thunder. The thunder is yours. It’s All American Girl brand thunder, with all the legal rights and privileges there-of.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“You’ve got to get rid of…”

Stella closed her phone and then accidently crushed it in her hand. Tossing the pieces down on the table, she looked at the vast array of food. She really didn’t feel all that hungry now—maybe just the two cheeseburgers.

All American Girl looked up into the horrible, grinning face of the Atomic Jack-O-Lantern.  He didn’t speak.  He just stared at her with that frightful face and glowed with the radioactive energy that was even now, draining away her life energy.  Suddenly a blue and white streak hit the Jack-O-Lantern in the chest, knocking him away.  Stella took a deep breath and tried to refocus her vision.  She was so weak that it was difficult to even move up into a sitting position, but she could slowly feel the energy returning to her muscles.  A minute later the blue and white streak was back.  Standing over her like a blonde goddess was Skygirl.

“No fricking way,” said Stella.

“Here, let me help you up.”

“I can get up myself.”  Stella climbed to her feet.  Her knees felt like overcooked pasta.  “Where’s glow boy?”

“He’s gone.”  Skygirl brushed her honey hair back behind her ear.  “I hit him three or four times, but then he just kind of blinked and disappeared.”

“Yeah, he does that,” said Stella, looking sidelong at the other super.  “You don’t have your boots on.”

“I was just out for a walk,” said Skygirl.  “You know, in my secret identity.”

“Your what?”

“My secret identity.”

“You’re Linda Ford,” said Stella.

“Shh.  Not so loud.”

“It’s not a secret.  Anybody can Google you and find it.  It’s at the top of your Wikipedia page.”

“What are you so upset about?”

Stella put her hands on her hips.  

“Well first of all, my home got knocked down, and all my stuff is gone.  Then a glowing excuse for a Halloween costume tried to kill me, and you let him get away.”

“We’ll get him next time.”

“We?  There is no we.  There’s just me—me and Chicago—my kind of town.”

Southside Office Building;

Conference Room;

“The last of the warheads are armed, Boss,” said Steve.

“Very good,” replied Professor Destruction.  “If only those super-powered morons were half as efficient at killing All American Girl…”

“Let me do it.”

“You, Steve?  You?  You don’t have superpowers and you don’t have my intellect.  She’d use your bones to pick her teeth.

“I can do it.  It’s not about superpowers.  It’s about applying the force necessary, where it’s needed.  I know what to do.”

“Interesting,” replied Destruction.  “It seems that some of me may have rubbed off on you.”

“Have I ever let you down, Boss?”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Steve answered.

“Then, no.  No, you haven’t let me down.”  Destruction peeled off his sports jacket, letting Steve catch it and hang it up.  Then he began climbing into his personal battle gear.  “Very well, Steve.  She’s all yours.  Don’t fail me.”

Skygirl, carrying two secretaries rescued from atop the Aon Center, dropped to the pavement in front of the command post.  Professional EMS and volunteers from all over the city were setting up a network of first aid tents, shelters and information stations.  She started to take off again, but a police captain came running toward her.

“Skygirl!”

“Yes, Captain?”

“I have a message for you from the Pentagon.  They left a number for you to call.  You can use the satellite phone in there.”

He pointed toward a large green tent next to the white first aid station.

“Thanks.”  She let him guide her.  “Have you heard where All American Girl is?”

“No.”

“Behemoth?”

He shook his head.

“Dynagirl?”

“I’m sorry.  The Atomic Twins are on the East Side.  The boy is injured.  Other than that, I don’t have any information on any of the supers.”

“Alright, thanks.”  They stepped inside and Linda dialed the number given to her.

“Hello,” she said when the other end of the line was picked up.  “This is Skygirl.”

“Skygirl honey, it’s good to hear you.  This is the Secretary a’ Defence.”

“Yes sir.  What can I do for you?”

“Girl, the Justice Brigade is goin’ on a mission, and they’re a little undermanned.  Captain Hero said you might be willin’ to join on.”

“Yes sir,” replied Linda.  

“How fast can ya’ll get down to Cape Kennedy?”

“Forty-nine minutes, sir.  I’ll leave right now.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”