Llydia

There exist dimensions parallel to our own, some bearing remarkable similarities, some so different as to seem entirely alien. In one of these latter dimensions existed beings of pure energy. They were powerful yet simple beings, happy to drift among the lazy currents of their world and watch the goings on of the other dimensions, like a human enjoys watching television. They had no desire to interact with the strange beings they watched, and their sole purpose in life was to simply be. One such being was drifting along minding her own business when she suddenly felt a violent and somewhat painful force grasp her essence and pull her towards . . . something. The very fabric of the universe seemed to rip apart. Her world turned inside out. In a puff of smoke and a flash of light it disappeared entirely.

When the smoke cleared she found herself crumpled on a wooden floor under the glare of harsh lights, being held half-upright by her long silky ears. I have ears?! A mustachioed man in a black tuxedo and a red satin cape stared at her in shock. He looked from her to the shiny black top hat on the table in front of him, and then back to her.

"Flopsy?" he said weakly.

Suddenly her new delicate sense of hearing was assaulted by a monstrous roaring sound, hundreds of people shouting and cheering and clapping. The man let go of her ears and took a bow. A heavy velvet curtain dropped, blocking out some of the harsh light, and she blinked in the sudden dimness. I have eyelids! And eyes! What is going on?!? The mustachioed man took her hands and helped her to her feet. I have legs! How do I work them?? He half led, half carried her off the stage and to a door labeled 'The Great Bernoli', and set her on a small couch inside.

"Oh, Flopsy! I never dreamed I was this good!" he crowed. "You sit there and relax, Flopsy dear. I'm just going to call my agent."

She obediently sat, trying to make sense of what had happened and figure out why she seemed so heavy and felt a continuous need to breathe. This took her some time. While The Great Bernoli was babbling to his agent about transmogrification, sexy bunny girls, and European tours, the truth gradually dawned on her.

I'm . . . I'm . . . CORPOREAL!!!

She jumped to her new feet and let out a wail so piercing and piteous that the large mirror on the dressing table shattered. Startled, The Great Bernoli dropped his cell phone.

"Flopsy? What's wrong, bunny?"

"You did this to me!" she shrieked, and the light bulbs around the broken mirror popped like glass balloons. "I HATE YOU!!!" The light fixture in the ceiling cracked and sparked.

"Flopsy! You don't mean that!"

The hate welled up inside her, and she sent it forth in a blast of energy that should have shriveled The Great Bernoli on the spot. Instead, the places where he'd nicked himself shaving that morning healed up completely and he suddenly looked remarkably refreshed. She tried it again, and the carpal tunnel in his wand-flicking wrist cleared up. Screaming in inarticulate rage and frustration, she burst through the door and ran out of the theater, leaving a trail of broken glass and ringing eardrums in her wake.

"Bunny! Come back! Flopsy!"

"MY NAME IS NOT FLOPSY!!!" she screeched, and the theater marquee exploded, pelting The Great Bernoli with bits of fiberglass and the letters of his name.



She wandered the streets of Paragon City for a time, lost in utter despair. For beings of pure energy, becoming corporeal was a horrible nightmare. Bodily functions were disgusting and humiliating. Physical sensations were confusing and at times overwhelming. She cried, and hated the feeling of salty water leaking out of her red, swollen eyes and blurring her vision. An unspeakable substance dribbled out of her nose, which made her cry even more. Her open angst and despair earned her the nickname of Emo Bunny.

She spent days wandering the city alone, desperate to find a way home, but not having the faintest idea of where home was. She eventually found herself in Atlas Park, which was full of aspiring heroes testing their powers. She gazed upon these new heroes and upon the statues of heroes past. Look at them all, she thought. Trying to make a difference in this ugly world of theirs. Why do they care?



When her angst-fueled healing powers were discovered, she was sent to some kind of hero training camp and given an ID card.

"This means you're one of the good guys!" the cheery city official informed her as he handed over her new ID. "Welcome to Paragon City, Emo Bunny."

"Whatever," she mumbled. Good. Evil. What difference does it make? We're all going to die anyway.

She spent the next few weeks reluctanlty helping various young heroes to vanquish so-called villains. She trudged through forests and city streets, scoured warehouses and office buildings, slogged through dank caverns and sewers.

"You're doing great, Emo Bunny!" Miss Liberty told her. "You're skills have improved!"

"I hate my life!" Bunny sighed, itching to wash the filth of the city out of her soft cottony tail.

Well, maybe it's not all bad.

She thought of the friends she had made, the Super Group she had joined. Adrienne and Kalasin and Goosifer and Blazstar; they had taken her under their collective wing and cheerfully put up with her negativity. They were good people. Even if they were disgustingly corporeal.

Maybe it's not all bad, she thought, as she gazed out at the city.

Maybe . . .