Sibling

“So, how do you like the coffee?” Bubbles had the fine china cup inches from her lips, observing Cliff over the rim. She knew that Sibling, while Angela was dominant, rarely drank anything but water or tea, so it had mildly surprised her when Cliff had asked to stop for coffee. She knew about this coffee shop since she was a connoisseur of fine chocolate (fine anything), and this was a regular stop on shopping days.

“Never had a cappuccino, but this is great!” Cliff had taken a few minutes at the counter, this was a spot known for it’s very expensive prices and extremely good fare. He had looked from the fresh baked pastries to the industrial La San Marco coffee machine for some time before deciding on a cappuccino and brioche. Both were excellent. Now he was on his third.

The look on his face gave Bubbles pause, though he didn’t notice her concentration. She was beginning to realize that this was not at all Angela. He seemed to be experiencing everything for the first time, and the wonder and excitement made her smile. She realized that Cliff was rarely dominant in the body, but the actual meaning of that had not become apparent until this. There were several questions she had asked during the day, and some answers he could not explain.

“Cliff,” she set the china cup down, the chocolatta calda di companna almost gone, “I still don’t understand how you have lived all this time,” she paused, not sure how to put it.

“How Angie and I lived in one body?” He was still smelling the coffee, not having taken a drink yet, just savoring the aroma. “I don’t know if I can explain it. How we ended up like this, well, you know that,” he saw her nod.

“Since then, we both have been in one body, but whoever was dominant had the feelings. When Angie ran the body,” he made it sound like driving a car, “I could see and hear and all, but emotions don’t work that way. I could be raging mad and it never came out. Think of it like a teleconference.” He set the demi-tasse cup down, and took a bite of the pastry. “I could see and hear, Angie knew what I thought or felt, but I didn’t control anything. We also had the ability to sorta shut the other out, like when she was hurt or really scared, I could take over and she wouldn’t be able to experience what happened.

“Same worked the other way. Gal and I don’t get along,” he looked down to his lap, fiddling with his hands and seeming uncomfortable, “I don’t make it very easy for her. So, when Angie wanted some time with her, she could close me out,” he looked up and rushed on, “which I don’t mind. You don’t understand how important privacy is until there are two people in your head.” He smiled.

“So, everything is new to me. Even when I was running the body, it was during stress or danger, and it was a shadow of this. Muted colors, fuzzy outlines…like being half-asleep.” He was turning his hands over, engrossed in the way they worked, the miracle of flesh and feeling.

Now Bubbles had some idea, but it still seemed so strange. The twins were almost 26 years old, and this man acted as though he was just born. She had another question, and hesitated to ask it, but Angela would have wanted straight, simple fact.

“If you and Gal don’t get along, how could Angela ever live with her? I mean,” she leaned forward, emphasizing with her hands, “you’re married to her!”

Cliff laughed, his deep bark startling a couple at the next table. “Angela is married to Gal, and that makes her happy.” He looked around at the open plaza, their table being furthest from the Café, under a green umbrella. The smells, the breeze, the cool day all somehow better than he remembered. “Whatever makes Angela happy, I’ll do. I have lived my whole life with that goal, and if she is content now, then I could die and be satisfied.

“Bubbles, I have to apologize,” his face turned serious and their eyes met, “I haven’t always been friendly or even decent. Angie is sometimes too trusting, too eager to be kind. She doesn’t realize that sometimes, anger gets you through, so that’s what I did.”

“Yah, you have been an a** at times,” she said back, smiling when she said it. “But, you know what?” Her eyes sparkled with electricity for a moment until he asked.

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while,” he blushed crimson, and she realized that was also because this was probably the first time he’d had a man’s body. “You’ve been in a woman’s body for that long?” She said it before she thought.

“Yeah,” he was three shades more red, “Is it obvious?”

“No, I meant,” she giggled, “it’s just weird to think that you’re a guy. I’ve known Sibling for a long time, and now you’re a guy, and well…” She could tell he was confused as well.

“Gonna need a crash course,” the waiter had come over with the bill, which had grown by several decimal places over the last two hours. Cliff made no move to take it when the almost invisible staff laid it near his cup.

Bubbles raised her eyebrows, and then realized he didn’t catch the meaning.

“Well, first, a man always pays for a lady’s meal and drinks.” She pushed the leather holder towards him with one manicured hand. He grinned and pulled out Sibling’s leather wallet, a very feminine wallet. She suppressed a giggle,

“Second, we still need to get you some man’s accessories,” he noticed her glance at the pocketbook.

“This isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.” The electronic device in the bill holder debited Sibling’s Influence card automatically, their fingerprints still being the same. He replaced the card and hid the pocketbook back in the knapsack where his other items were. Bubbles was carrying the purchases, at least until they got to Icon and she could have them sent to her apartment by the Concierge. Privileges of being on the top 10 list.

“I have to use the restroom, then we can go?” He stood, shouldering the bag.

“Sure, me too. I’ll meet you across the street at Icon.”

They both walked back into the Café, making their way through the crowded interior to the back. Bubbles was following Cliff, and her attention wandered until he opened the door and took a step inside.

“Uh, Cliff, I don’t think…”

“Look Bubbles, I know I may be new to this, but I think I can handle that much on my own.” He shook his head and walked straight into a woman, who then proceeded to scream and landed a good shot with her purse.

“Hey! What’s that?” Understanding crossed his face the same time Bubbles made an apology to the woman and turned to him.

“I was trying to tell you, this is the LADIES Room!” She was pushing him toward the door as he hid his face.

“Force of habit, sorry!” He hurried across the short hall into the Men’s Room, then stopped. It had been a long time.

Long stories, all our character's histories are in Ladies of the Lake RP section.

Mainly: Sibling-the twins work at a nightclub, believe it or not they danced (female form) on stage, and came up with pretty good tips. Now, Cliff works freelance for the Paragon Times (officially!) and Angela is a Psychotherapist with her own office in KR (Mind Controller).
Gal 'O War- recently opened a restaurant and bar near the loft she shares with Sibling. Great Southern Cook (Chefs are people who use spices to cover up their bad tasting food ), good atmosphere.
Narshawn-Sister of The Order, full time sage, works for Azuria on very esoteric spells and magics. Requires little outside the Sisterhood to survive.
Gypsy's Queen- Had to run from her country, but derives a stipend from the government for her family's land and holdings.

Our Lady CuppaJo,
Cliff left us a Posty-note, guess the twins are off on assignment. Wants to know when the issue 8 deadline is, some story about some wheel or such. Can you give me a clue?
Thanks,
Gal

Raise our +2 Rod of Smiting to you in salute!

At least you can bring down AV's. There is a big difference betweeen RPing and DMing (or do they still say that these days? Help us out old D&D players.). Some people can open RP, but you cannot RP someone else's character, unless you do it very subtly.

Calling Gal over to get you a drink at Tony's, and giving her a voice over like "Ya look pretty young, and tattered...Gonna need ta see an ID." Is totally in-character and cool. Coming over and asking for a date, complimenting her on her wardrobe (which she would very much enjoy) and such, and having her make small talk, also OK. Taking another character like her and doing: "Sure, I'd love to date you, and have your children. Oh, and now I intend to join the forces of darkness and tear up my own bar." That doesn't work. NPC's maybe, but not other characters.

Man, now we're up to our ten cents worth. Maybe we could just put down a quarter and get unlimited air time.

Completely agree, both Cliff and Angela.
A quick look at history proves this to be correct. Pre-emptive action by the just is always better than reaction by the masses, and who better to determine the right path than the right (meaning the just)? Heroes, like some other enlightened people, are not only better able to determine the correct path for society, simply by their innate wisdom and benevolence, but also better able to enforce this sometimes misunderstood philosophy.

It is common knowledge that great men are misunderstood, their motives and their ideas, until long after their deaths. If killing a few hundred thousand helps the entire world become more peaceful, it is well worth it. Peace also is misunderstood, it does not mean happy cohabitation, it simply means life without war. Sometimes that has to be forced on people, make those who disagree toe the line, so to speak. You have groups who simply cannot accept that our way, the hero way, is the only way to go. They must be brought under the chain if they do not see the glory of our missions!

A good example would be Apokalipse (sp?), no wars, no fighting, just pure peace. Granted it has to be enforced by a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters, but you can't have everything. It's only war and suffering if it happens against us, not if we do the enforcing. If killing is called for, even to make a point, that is a Hero's job! Look, Superman doesn't have to kill, but he's all powerful. Regular heroes have to do what it takes, and spilling a few gallons of blood is nothing.

Think about it, if we let the villains that aren't hurting anyone be, next the citizens will think that crossing against the light is OK. Show them the error of their ways! Give that scofflaw a good Shadow Punch or lvl 50 Dominate, put them back on the straight and narrow (or in a bag, who cares?).

Now, we hope you realize this is /sarcasm.

There is no cause that is cause enough to enforce your will on another, that is what the justice system is about. It takes one moment for a hero to become a villain, but no amount of time can turn a villain into a hero. They still don't trust Hawkeye for Pete's sake.

To be a hero, really, you must do selfless things for no hope of return. Want to study some heroes? Atlas (he died just to hold the city), Ghandi, Audey Murphy, Tillman (pro-football player who became a Ranger, then killed by his own men in Iraq).

Not true, so like a man! Laughing, laughing and joking.

We were in the Tony's bar RP for some time until it was *hijacked* and super-powerful omnipotent characters came in, then figured it was time to go. No fun dealing with foes there is no way to fight. We like congruent story lines, which is why we don't post in many other places for RP.

Besides, Cliff is a guy, just learning how to be one.

Great advice. Now as Sibling, we have the distinct advantage that Angela is a Telepath, and can read some surface thoughts. One thing we do is NOT read the bio until we have played with a character, like getting to know someone. That means they either tell us their story, or we would be around long enough to know some of it.

Speaking of RP, it really confuses people when we first meet, and we say: "We need some help" or "Would you like to join us?" Next comment is, who else is on the team? Well, it's only us. "Us?" Then we get to explain a little about our split personality. That's RP, but we don't play any other way except by request.

Again, great post.

Just read that Countess Crey is one of your insured clients. If the story involves assisting or protecting Crey, Sibling would not participate and Gal would never cross Sibling knowingly. Sorry.

Greetings,

I offer the services of Sibling and Gal ‘O War to your story. The idea and what you have divulged thus far interests me, and if I can help by providing characters, content or back story, you are welcome.

“Jeans,” Cliff stopped on the path and looked down again, for the umpteenth time, running one hand over denim. “I never thought I’d get to wear jeans again.” His smile widened as he took up the pace again, striding towards the beach ahead.

Bubbles followed along, silent since she first saw him in Morgaine’s home, still trying to recover from the shock. It could all still be some elaborate joke, but the people involved would not do something to this extent. D’ or Gal would pull a practical joke, but not Almira and certainly not Morgaine, not if it involved having a man on the island. No man, not ever, had set foot past the beach, not even during the Rikti Invasion. The Ladies, Morgaine most of all, had held the island against the attack. No, this could not be a joke.

She watched the man’s back, still unable to think that this could be Sibling. His back was muscular, but more like a gymnast than a weight lifter, and it filled out the flannel shirt (Scottish-made Flannel, Mc’Laren pattern, very fine work from Icon). Definitely bigger than Sibling in the chest and arms, thicker legs, different stride. She decided that this could not be the same person and stopped, suspicion raising the small hairs on her neck.

“Who are you?” She was a defender, but knew one or two offensive moves, that and being well skilled with her hands. The man stopped, then turned slowly, a smile leaving his face.

“Bubbles, it’s Cliff,” he motioned with both hands to himself, expression between frustration and confusion. “Sibling, how long have you known me? Who am I?” he made a noise in his throat. “I am Cliff.”

“No, that’s not right,” she took a step back, putting a little space between them. “Sibling never says ‘me’ or ‘I’, I know Sibling. Now, who are you?” The lack of other Sisters in the forest occurred to her, normally at least a few of the initiates would be coming to the water for breakfast fishing.

“You didn’t know. Sorry about that,” he paused with an amused grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I’m going too fast, it’s just that being in a body again is very cool. Let me explain.” She didn’t move closer, still suspicious.

“Since Sibling caught the wasting disease, from the Vahzilok, Angela and I have been having trouble. Angela used some of her skills to counteract the disease while I took over the body, it’s a skill we have, let’s us do several things at once. I’m the better fighter anyway, Angela doesn’t like violence.” He leaned back against a tree, crossing one leg over the other, relaxing in a movement Bubbles did not recognize.

“I won’t bore you with all the details, but D’ and Sibling beat Dr. Vahz and recovered the antidote,” He looked across the space to Bubbles eyes, holding them and realizing they were a very pretty blue, glowing, but still pretty. He stopped talking, actually lost in her eyes for a moment.

She noticed his pause, he was staring. “And?” She straightened, uncomfortable with this attention from someone she would otherwise treat as a friend, except this wasn’t that person. Now, she was confused.

“Oh, yeah,” he cleared his throat and hid a blush behind his hand, affecting to rub his nose. “So, after that, we’ve been having trouble keeping our thoughts straight. Trouble keeping our emotions in check, Angela has been all weepy,” he rolled his eyes, but there was no malice in his voice. “I’ve been angry, bitter,” he made a face, “or at least more than normal.” He smiled, looking into the dense grass at his feet, then ran a hand through his shoulder length hair. That motion, the way he moved, that was the Sibling she recognized.

“So, what happened to your, um,” Bubbles waved a hand toward him, pursing her lips, “body?”

He laughed, that was also a laugh she recognized. The voice, laugh were all Cliff, the motions, some of the little traits and quirks, those were Sibling. She squinted, looking over him twice again.

“The body, well, we have a problem with that. You see, we found out that since the accident with Vahz, the body is having trouble with both of us. Basically, Almira and Morgaine,” Bubbles eyes widened, those names were never used without titles here, “they think that this body can’t handle the conflicting hormones and physiology. This body was male, a long time ago,” now he had Bubbles attention. “Angela and I keep it female by using our powers. You know that Angela fears being close to men.” He glanced up as she slowly nodded, she wouldn’t have said ‘feared’, but knew that Angela never stayed around men longer than a mission or necessary, knew it was because of a terrible experience.

“Well, imagine if she had to live in a male body. She wouldn’t, and I know that, so I use my telekinesis and some other powers to keep this body female. The problem is that now, after the accident, it has started to reject some of those powers. Hormones going crazy, making emotions do the same.

“It was good that we were here for D’s party, Almira realized and had some of the Ladies check it. They say that I need to be the dominant personality and be in a male body once in a while. That should help balance things.”

It occurred to Bubbles that this meant the end of a friendship. She had known Sibling, as Angela, since she came here, now it sounded like Angela was gone. Just that fast, and she hadn’t even had time to say goodbye. A tear formed in one eye.

“Oh, wait, no! You don’t understand, Angie isn’t gone. I just get to be me once in a while, and the body changes to match.” His normally brusque manner and sometimes rude attitude crumbled under a woman’s tears. Waving his hands, he walked over to where Bubbles stood, in full cry now.

Bubbles sniffled, wiping her eyes with a color coordinated scarf, matching the rather subdued (for her) sky blue, fuzzy sweater and cotton-pink skirt. Cliff came within a few steps, suddenly noticing that she was wearing perfume and some sort of sparkle on her cheeks. He stood, not sure what to do, while she composed herself.

“Angie isn’t gone Bubbles, I only need to be like this for a little while, just long enough for the chemicals to flatten out. From what they said last night, probably only a day or so, then Angela will be able to handle it for a while.”

She stopped crying and looked up into his eyes, the same eyes Angela had but somehow different in the way they held hers. This was also a different sort of Cliff, nothing like the way he would have acted before, this Cliff had some compassion, the old one would have kept walking while she cried.

“How is that gonna work? I still don’t understand,” she shook off the last of her tears and dug into her small bag for a moment, coming out with a compact and using the mirror to check her face.

“When we sense that the balance is off, we can come here, to the Island. The Sisters can help us…change.” He looked decidedly uncomfortable for a moment, looking away. “Then I stay a man until we have the body back in balance, come back, and Angie gets to run things again. We won’t know how often until it happens a few times.”

A noise, crunching leaves, came from a side path. This trail connected to all the others on the island, even the concealed paths, could be found simply by walking from the beach on this trail. Sisters are trained to be very quiet in their movements, the rustling was only a few steps away.

A blue-robed adept stepped from the trail to their left, hands folded and head down within the hood, typical of a Sister who spent much time on The Island. When she caught sight of Bubbles, there was only mild surprise, it wasn’t often that a Sister went about in street clothes, but nothing unheard of. She began to make a sign of greeting, then noticed Cliff.

A moment’s hesitation, Cliff stepped back, Bubbles looked from the Sister to him and back, then the blue-robed woman dropped into a crouch. Not everyone on The Island was trained in combat, many Sisters never left the shores, becoming skilled at arcane knowledge, providing research for Universities and the like. This woman was not a sage, a freezing sword snapping into existence in her hand defined her area of study.

“Sister, No!” Bubbles held up both hands, waving them. The woman did not even look to the side, concentrating on the center of Cliff’s chest, a martial skill allowing her to anticipate any movement he might make. Her robe was becoming heavy with ice and frost, the air around her fogging from the cold.

“What do you want here, Man?” There was a definite tone on the last word, a dislike or accusation.

Cliff’s legs went cold, ice creeping up from the moisture in the air and ground to surround his feet, rooting him in place. Several thoughts flew through his mind, attack being one of the first, but seeing a Sister and woman facing him, he waited. Attacking women bothered him, unless they hit first. As it was, he couldn’t move, and was cold, but that was it.

“Mistress, this is a mistake!” Bubbles had moved between the two, and could feel the frigid cold coming from her back, where Cliff shivered in the block of ice. “This isn’t a man, or at least not really a man, well maybe he is now…” She started rambling.

“Bubbb..bbb…bbbles, kkk…kkk…cold,” his lips were turning blue, the denim and athletic shoes being inadequate for the arctic cold that surrounded him.

“Mistress! Please stop.” Bubbles moved to within touching distance of the other woman, completely blocking her view. “This is a Sister! It’s Sibling!”

The sword disappeared, she straightened up and moved to one side for a better view of the shivering man. Her eyes narrowed, then widened. A look of horror flashed over the woman’s sharp features a moment before she pulled her hood up, hiding her face and bowing. Without her concentration, the Chilbain dissipated quickly, leaving Cliff in violent shakes from the cold.

Bubbles turned, rushing over to Cliff’s side and pulling off the heavy sweater she wore. Modesty among Sisters was practiced out of respect, not because of any physical taboo, and Cliff was freezing. Bubbles did what any Sister would do for another, threw her sweater over his shoulders and hugged him close for body heat. It took a moment for him to stop concentrating on the cold and realize he was that close to a very attractive young woman in nothing but a camisole and skirt. Being a woman, at least being in a woman’s body, for 12 years did not prepare him for the reaction. Luckily, Bubbles and the blue-robed Sister did not see the sly grin that crossed his face.

“Lady Sibling,” the blue-robe said, still bowed low at the waist, “Forgive me, I was confused. I beg your pardon.” The law dealt very harshly with attacking a fellow Sister, Sibling was of higher rank and known to be a favorite of Morgaine.

“Narshawn?” Cliff gathered his wandering thoughts enough to address the woman. “Aren’t you Narshawn?” His voice was flat, the cold making it hard to speak at all.

She took it as a rebuke, placing a hand to her forehead, not rising. “Yes Lady, I am Narshawn, Mistress of Winter, Daughter of Lady Gemini, sixth season.” Her whole history on The Island, who she served, her power sets, it was the most formal greeting a Sister could show. It was usually reserved for first introductions or during a grave misunderstanding like this.

“Narshawn, stand.” He waited for her to rise, still staring at the ground and unsure. “Do not bow to me, at least not in this form.” He smiled, trying not to. “I am a special case, so they allow me on the Isle, but you should treat me like a man otherwise.” Her eyes were still averted, head covered, he couldn’t tell what her face might show. Confusion was a good bet.

Bubbles had released him, also noticing that this was NOT a Sister. She was comfortable with him, he still seemed something like Sibling, but there was an awkward feeling as well.

Less than 20 minutes later, Narshawn was gone on her business (confused but not fearing punishment) and the two stood at the docks, waiting on one of the skiffs to take them outside the foggy force-field that prevented teleportation or uninvited visitors. Some small talk had died, neither really knowing how to go about this. Bubbles seeing an old friend in a completely different way and Cliff beginning to feel emotions he had never dealt with before.

“Bubbles?” It took several tries just to get started, he didn’t meet her eyes.

“Yes?” She looked up, Cliff was several inches taller than Sibling, taller than she was.

“It’s Cliff, just call me Cliff. Angela is still inside this head,” he tapped his temple, “but like this, she’s not conscious. It’s to protect her. I still can do the same things, powers and all, but don’t have her skills. I need to ask you for something…” he rushed it out, fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket.

“I don’t know how to be a guy.” He looked up, meeting her eyes, then realized how that sounded.

Bubbles actually blushed crimson, more from shock than embarrassment. It hadn’t sounded like a question, like he was asking for what his words said. She realized it was the first time her friend had been a man, no puberty, no male bonding. He was a woman that had become a man last night.

“Oh [censored], Bubbles, I didn’t mean,” he reached out, would have caught her arms in the female way Sisters did to emphasize a point. Then realized that might be the wrong move and pulled his hands back, stuffing them into his pockets. “I’m sorry…”

“Nah, I understand,” she was still blushing, but laughed as they both stepped into the skiff. It arrived and two mariner Sisters held it to the dock. “I think I understand why D’ wanted me to come here, too. I’m around men more than all the other Sisters combined. Besides, I may be cute, but I’m not easy.” His look of shock made her laugh again, an opening she couldn’t pass up.

“Some lessons,” she winked at him and crossed her arms, “have to wait for the second date.”

“Dinner, some dancing, let’s see how this first date works out.” He didn’t see the glee in her eyes as she stepped into the front of the boat.

Brother, It rocks. Sib would think so too, but she's down for a nap, have her look it over later.
Keep it comin.
Gal

Post like you expect a Lady to read it, because we do. Dev's will censor, and should, anything explicit or even overtly suggestive.

Opening a restaurant in King's Row, looking for large selection of cast iron cookware, prefer vintage/quality. Looking for Griswold, Wagner, older le Creuset. Equipping complete commercial kitchen, large collections bought complete, cash. Southern Cook uses southern methods, pre-seasoned a +. Call 555-742-5464, ask for Gal.

The characters, D’, Sibling, Bubbles and Gal have been attending D’s coming of age and birthday party on The Island. Located off Talos Island, on one of the many tiny isles, The Island is constantly shrouded in mist from outside, and unreachable except by the Sisters or a few special guests. Warded, guarded and hidden, this is the sanctuary for the Sisters, a place for ceremony and respite. All the Sisters have gathered here, in a clearing specifically for these sorts of rites, in the shadow of the Grandmother Stone, a monolith that holds sacred meaning. The Lady, Morgaine, has presented D’ with the symbolic green cloak, signifying her coming into the highest rank of The Order, and has retired to her dwelling. Almira catches Sibling’s eye and the controller moves out of the crowd, toward a quieter alcove in the foliage…

“Lady,” Sibling bowed and touched her forehead, always proper with this one.

-Daughter,- the voice that was Almira spoke to the twin’s mind, unable to do so aloud, -the woman we sent to you, that The Lady sent D’ to find, she is well?-

“Yes, she is healthy, but she does not make herself welcome.” Between these women, there were no secrets, and Sibling knew that Almira would not rebuke her for opinions. “She comes as a guest, but makes trouble in the house. Already she has offended our junior, she has insulted our friends and it has been less than two days!” Her voice rose slightly, which Almira knew meant she was extremely irritated. “We obey The Lady, in all things, but this tests even our patience. We do not ask, it is not our place, but hope this person is worth this much.”

Almira placed a hand on the young woman’s arm, she could feel there was more than the twin’s were saying. The mental bond the two had, developed during Sibling’s many years training under this Lady, carried more then simple thoughts. Almira could sense a great unease inside the controller, jumbled emotions, at least more jumbled then usual for the two people that lived inside this one body. This was very unlike Sibling, Almira mentally called out to an initiate nearby, wiping away tears from Sibling’s cheek.

When the young, white-robed woman came close, quick to respond and very eager, Almira signed with her free hand. Luckily, the shrubs jutted out into the clearing here, shielding the women from view. Sibling was fully into sobs now, burying her head in Almira’s shoulder, as the older woman tried to comfort her. This was nothing like Sibling, in all her time, Almira had never seen the twins like this, had never even known them to cry.

“Lady,” whispered the initiate, still bowed and uncomfortable speaking directly to one of the highest of The Order. “I do not understand, you want me to…”

An impatient motion said all she needed to, -GO!- The young woman bowed low, scared to ask again. A few steps away and she moved as fast as she could, at less than a run, for the cavern in the wood where Morgaine lived.

Being a healer, Almira could feel other people’s pain, their afflictions and often knew more about what was wrong with someone than a doctor could. The Island had no medical facilities, no modern convenience of any kind, so the healers were the sole source of aid. What she sensed in Sibling was beyond her knowledge, the body was well but in upheaval, and their minds were disjointed and confused, there weren’t two coherent thoughts in a row.

Bubbles had broken from the crowd, Almira could see her bright colored hair moving near the edge of the robes, she was looking for Sibling. The thought bled over and Sibling caught it.

“No! Mother please! Not Bubbles,” she was frantic, “We don’t want to see Bubbles, not like this.” The tear-streaked face lifted, watery eyes staring into Almira’s own. The voice was Cliff’s, interspersed with Angela’s sobs.

Almira gauged how long the younger sister had been gone to find The Lady, not long enough to explain, if long enough to even reach the cavern. It didn’t matter, Sibling was having some kind of breakdown, both minds trying to come out at the same time. Bubbles had seen the two and was walking across the small open space towards them. The older woman held Sibling at arms length,

-Daughter, go to The Lady, she already knows what is happening. - A flash of light and Sibling was gone, teleported to the cavern by Morgaine, a request Almira had sent along with a fast description of what was occurring.

“Lady,” Bubbles bowed and touched her forehead, “has Sibling gone? I saw her here a moment ago, we are ready to start back to the City but D’ and I plan to head to Icon and wanted to ask Sibling if she and Gal would come along.” The defender looked around, as if expecting Sibling to reappear soon, staying a respectful distance from the green-robed woman. She still had her hood down, normal after formalities were over, the gathering now was one of friends and peers, rank generally being forgotten.

Almira held up a hand, indicating quiet and listen in one movement. Bubbles had not trained under Almira, their skills and talents being very different, and so the relationship was like a scholar from one discipline and a student of another, respectful but distant. The defender’s mind was not easy to navigate, and so the mental conversation she would normally use was not comfortable for either. Almira signed, which Bubbles did not understand well, so the healer kept it short.

-Go to Gal, bring Gal, we talk-. Almira pulled her hood up, a sign that this was no longer a conversation between friends, but more serious. Bubbles hurried away, seeing the towering tanker still near D’. She pulled up her white hood, tugging it to cover her pony-tails, and walking as quickly as she could. A Sister did not, under strict penalty, run on the island unless lives were at stake.

Gal’s conversation with Almira, who had been her teacher, lasted less than ten minutes. Bubbles stayed by her partner’s side, anxious and wanting to be involved, but knowing that she would be called if needed. D’ sensed something amiss, but a gesture from Almira had kept her in the gathering, that particular motion meaning “Distraction”. At a final gesture, dismissal, from Almira, Gal headed into the forest

The remainder of the Sisters had dispersed, some remaining on The Island, studying or with tasks, and others going back to the city to their jobs or homes. D’ walked to where Almira stood, near the path into the deepest of the forest, concern on her face. Bubbles was only a step behind, the stress of waiting apparent. She tried to follow the conversation, but the exchange between D’ and the elder Sister was too fast. In short order, D’ turned to her junior partner, her face a mixture of concern and relief.

“Bubbles,” she started, pushing her hood back slightly to better see her shorter friend, “Sibling and Gal have something to discuss, something that will probably keep them here overnight. It’s nothing we can do, no reason for us to stay.” Bubbles was obviously confused, but knew better than to ask questions now. Her senior would explain as well as she could later.

“Lady Almira says she wants you to return tomorrow, early in the morning.” D’ turned slightly to catch Amira’s eye, the other woman’s head nodded beneath her own robe. “She said you are to go directly to The Lady’s home, wear no clothing of The Order. Street clothes, walking shoes and we are going into town tonight to pick up some other things for you to bring with you. You will bring Gypsy with you, her time for learning the laws of The Island begins then.”

Seeing the almost comical look on her junior partner’s face, D’ smiled and would have laughed except for the company. The short, green-robed woman was a friend, but also the senior of all the Ladies, and her office cast a seriousness on this. Still…

“You are not in trouble, but we need to go if we want to visit Icon before your personal shopper leaves. You know phones don’t work on The Isle, so we need to get to the Tram in Talos.” Her mind was racing, so many things to handle. She would mark it up to her new station except it was like this before as well, she gathered responsibility, handling crises like Bubbles handled her wardrobe.

Both turned to Almira, D’ never having totally turned away, never excluding the woman from the conversation. As was fitting , Bubbles bowed much lower, both touching their foreheads in salute, then turning and walking toward the transfer zone where all coming and going had to pass.

Morgaine’s home was actually an ancient cavern, set in the center of the island. No path led to it, and unless you knew exactly where it should be, and knew several words from an ancient language, it could not be found by any means. Sisters did not “visit”, they were invited, so there was no traffic at her door that night, except as Almira quietly opened the door, coming to add her skills to the small group that surrounded Sibling, and the lamps burned into the morning.


As Bubbles waited at the landing for the skiff to arrive next morning, she shook her head and thought again this was some huge joke. One being played on her, that involved all her friends, the Ladies of the Isle, even Morgaine. Since their first stop last night, when her worry about Sibling had changed into concern her partner was going insane, she had become more and more suspicious. Not that shopping bothered her, it could cure almost any worry she had, but what they had shopped for, that had made her ask D’ three times.

Then there was the trip to the loft, since Gal would also be gone all night, and having to deal with the woman currently standing ahead of her, Gypsy’s Queen. She had become somewhat less abrasive since they first met, but would never be Miss Congeniality, and telling Bubbles that breakfast (the breakfast Bubbles had made) was late…that capped off a great morning.

One thing kept her tongue from lashing out, she knew that the first few months with the Sisters would change her tune. She remembered her own first months, which were actually fond memories, but would grind into “Her Highness”. Washing other women’s clothes, being first awake and last asleep, cooking, cleaning…Oh, if only she could watch.

The two blue robed adepts that met them on The Island quickly led Gypsy away, toward the Initiate’s Circle, a group of huts where all white robes lived while on the island, communal living, everyone equal. A smile crossed the defender’s face, nothing to do with the perfect weather.

Ten minutes later, she stood before the door to Morgaine’s home. Not some sturdy wood or stone affair, this door was made of one spiderweb, an immense web for sure, but perfectly symmetrical. This early in the morning, dew still glistened on the strands, and the perpetual swirling mist that formed the spaces between the web moved lazily. As fragile as it seemed, it could not be opened from the outside. Knocking was not necessary, the owner knew when a visitor was near. As she approached the small porch it swung inward.

Bubbles shifted the carry bag into her left hand, genuflecting with her right to the open door, knowing that Morgaine stood just inside. The bag was part of the joke, she knew it, no one on this island could need the clothing inside, men were not allowed to cross the grass boundary from the beach, and very rare was it that any man had even seen the island. She had gone very quiet last night when D’ even mentioned the need to get them, and asking “for who” had drawn a complete refusal to say, beyond some measurements and height.

“Men are not allowed here,” The Lady’s voice came from the door a moment before she stepped into the warm, morning sun. “In that you are correct Sister.”

Bubbles bowed again, much lower, bag touching the ground. The lack of her robe and hood brought a wave of panic, her fashionable clothes felt wrong here.

“No Sister, you have done as I asked. What you will do today requires you to fit in the City, and the rule about never being in the company of a man while robed is still enforced.” The delicate hands of the ancient Lady touched below Bubble’s chin, lifting her head. Gently, as an aunt or matron would, she led Bubbles into the cavern where she made her home. The smells of cinnamon and fresh cedar, brightly lit corners and walls of natural arts made it seem less imposing than she would have thought. Light seemed to come from everywhere, even with no windows in the walls. They stopped at a closed door, this made of some light-colored wood, bound with leather, another impossible feat.

“No man is welcome past the beach,” Morgaine spoke quietly to the pink-haired girl, turning away from the door but motioning for Bubbles to open it. “However, a Sister may come and go at will. In this case, we make our only exception.”

The door opened slightly, Bubbles dropped the bag in shock. She turned but Morgaine was gone, no corner or passage for her to duck into. Bubbles turned back to the door, sure the joke was about to be sprung and braced for any manner of shock. Her mouth dropped open.

“You know the rule,” came the familiar male voice, “men cannot see The Lady.”

It was Sibling’s face, and even the hair color, but it was certainly not Angela’s body below. Thicker arms, a broad and male chest, wide hands and some drape across his lower half.

“Don’t stare, Bubbles, it’s not polite,” the man’s teeth shown through a wide grin. “We hope you brought something that fits, the uniform is way to tight.

“And before you ask,” he made a movement with one hand, “it is us.”

Hey Thang,
That was US! And we are not insane, but fitting two minds in here gets cramped. Have to let out the bad thoughts somewhere.
So, who RP's anyway?

The twins stood outside the bathroom door, discussing this newcomer between themselves, which meant silently. Part of the training on The Island was specifically dedicated to other, known, magikal races and peoples. The Sister’s history was one of legend, but no one outside the Sisterhood knew how much was true and how much myth. That suited the Ladies quite well, and gave them capital of a kind unrelated to finance.

Sibling had been known among the Ladies, a scholar first and a troubled soul second. Whether due to the twin’s past or a lack of outside contact, they had absorbed knowledge, surpassing those several years further into the faith in knowledge and abilities. History and traditions of other races was one of their strong subjects. D’ had given them a very quick briefing, mentally, at the door. That was all the more they needed, so it made sense that Gypsy had been sent to this loft. No other scholars lived in this portion of the city, at least none the Sisters would trust with this woman.

The wait was turning long, and few sounds were coming from inside. Sibling turned towards the door, Cliff wanting to knock and Angela forbidding it. There were just some things universal among women, and knocking on the bathroom door was never done politely. The sound of water running, then running again, brought a knowing smile to the controller’s lips.

“May we offer assistance, Madame Gypsy?” Angela’s voice was only loud enough to be heard over the on and off again sound of a water stream from inside. She did not touch the door.

“Yes, attend me.” The woman’s voice, heavy with a Slavik accent, was from a person used to being in charge. Sibling bit back Cliff’s reply and turned the handle.

Gypsy was standing near the shower, hands again in her sleeves, a posture Sibling realized was routine for the woman. The visitor’s hair was freshly brushed, pulled in the back with a leather thong tie and two small plaits, one falling beside either eye. An apparently perpetual scowl and the thick eyebrows added to her brooding face, Angela chose a less than cheerful smile, sincere but not friendly. The twins stood in the doorway, not entering.

“How may we help?”

“This appliance,” the Gypsy pointed, “you will explain it’s use.” She replaced her hand into the sleeve of the shirt and inclined her head. Imperious, indeed, and even Angela had her limits.

“Madame Gypsy, we understand that the journey was difficult, and that this is a foreign place, we also understand from your Diklo that you are of the Luri, last daughter to the Kak.” Sibling was throwing in enough Romanese, the language of the people, to convince the woman she was being honest and also knew what she spoke about. “While we respect your place and your people, you should not give orders to those in our house. In this house, we are all Sisters of some rank.”

The air crackled between the women, no powers or magik, simply from the tension. Gypsy realized this was not a commoner, not simply some Gadji. She had recognized the headscarf, knew why she had to flee her native country, even knew her status in the Clan. It was rare that the Queen knew less about a person who knew so much about her, and it was uncomfortable.

“You say ‘we’,” lowering her head to stare directly at Sibling, “who else do you include?”

“We are Sibling,” now it was Sibling’s turn to be evasive and aloof. “We are twins. I am Angela,” the voice dropped several octaves, “and I am Cliff.” The body took on a different stance, inflection of voice and expression. Gypsy realized this was another person, but sensed no magik involved, it was not channeling a spirit.

“No, not channeling,” the male voice continued, “my sister and I share this body. To answer your question, the question you were about to ask politely,” emphasized by voice, “the appliance is called a Bidet. It is used to clean and refresh after using the toilet. It is much preferable to, but does not replace, western paper. Shall we demonstrate for you,” a completely mirthless grin settled on Cliff’s face, akin to a death mask, “my Queen?”

“No.” Her response came with the same flat tone, her mouth tight and eyes narrowed. The thought of a man, a Gadjo, instructing a woman in such things had her fists clenched inside her sleeves. Several dark spells occurred to her, but many months of learning and being taught, sometimes in less than pleasant ways, stopped her. The balance of respect and affront this person had shown was not what a foe would, her first teacher had been much the same. A smile that did not reach her lips came at the thought of that lesson, how to size up an opponent before stepping into battle. It was also how two strangers would meet, determining friendship or hostility.

Sibling touched her forehead, leaving her hand there and diverting her eyes to the ground. Angela spoke again.

“We do not need to be enemies, we do not need to be friends,” her eyes snapped up, holding Gypsy’s own fiercely, “but you will not be master in OUR home.”

Gypsy removed her hands from the shirt, holding both palms up and in full view, not breaking eye contact. “You are Romanes?”

“No,” Sibling replied, she could hear a barely concealed longing in the question. One woman, recently orphaned, seeking another member of her Clan. “We are Gadji,” non-Gypsy woman, “but you know that the Sisters have taken in your people before. We are all one.” The word was Jekhipe, and simply saying it caused the masked woman to relax visibly. There was some noise in the kitchen, Gal firing the stove up and starting again on the half finished dinner.

“You are among friends here. You can relax here, the Ladies would not send you anywhere unsafe.” Sibling relaxed, dropping her hand and standing more at ease. She could understand how all that had happened would make this woman ready to do battle.

“I would wish that you had been the one to meet me, I was not expecting a…”

“Do not say that, not in this house, not in our hearing!” Sibling interrupted, the comment had been expected. Few people met D’ without being disturbed, even her contacts generally ducked before they recognized her. “She is nothing like them, at least not in this dimension, and she approaches her posting as ‘Lady’.” Sibling gave a genuine smile at the lost look that Gypsy had. “She’s from another dimension.” It explained a great deal.

“She still has excellent eyes, and ears.” Sibling and Gypsy walked toward the dining room, “she was able to see me even though I was using magiks.” Bubbles appeared in the hall, trying not to look like she was looking for them.

Gypsy stopped, placing her hands into her sleeves, it was instinctive. Bubbles saw the quick movement, stopping herself where she was reaching to “adjust” a picture that did not need it. The young woman looked at Sibling, unsure.

“Gypsy’s Queen, this is Shock Bubble; Shock Bubble, this is Gypsy’s Queen. Bubbles is a Sister, Gypsy does not touch others outside her family.” Sibling mentioned it because it would have been usual for women inside the Sisterhood to hug or grasp forearms in greeting. Bubble simply touched her forehead and made a sketch of a bow, proper for an initiate Sister. She did not see that Gypsy inclined her head, habit, or that Sibling shot the masked woman a sharp glance. Gypsy lowered her head again quickly, and sheepishly answered as Bubbles straightened up.

“I am pleased to meet you.” It sounded less than convincing, but a good start.

“Gal almost has dinner ready, and D’ will be out of the bath soon. I set a place for everyone and put out the wine if Gypsy would like some. We have my favorite stuffed mushrooms with Feta cheese if you want something like an appetizer, you know Sib, that kind Gal gets from over in Talos that’s organic from the little goats…”

“Let’s sit down then,” Sibling cut off her young friend. “Maybe Gypsy would like to hear more about us.”

There are plenty of Soldier and Gangster RP's on our machine, plus a lot of RPed other types. Try Sibling some time, you never know whether Cliff or Angela will be the dominant personality (unless it's a bad fight, then Cliff is always on the line). Or Almira, no Elizabethan English, just a Lady many centuries old, placed into a willing, younger body that knows all things good come to those who do good.

Oh, and there are plenty of Soldiers in the real world that don't act like soldiers, plenty of police you would never recognize out of uniform by their actions. Molds don't fit the real world, so they certainly don't fit RP. Look at the mid-60's Marvel Black Knight: had the whole armor thing, flying steed, jousting deal, but was actually some 20 year old in his ancestor's gear, definitely didn't speak like a knight.

“So, anyway,” Gal was busy in the kitchen, several copper pans and one large Calphalon pot hissing and steaming away, she adjusted the range down to keep the sauté from burning, “I have an idea about the bar. There’s an old cabinet shop over in Skyway, they have an antique bar in storage. It would be perfect for the place…”

The doorbell rang, twice quickly and once again, longer. Bubbles came out of the dining room, having just finished setting the table for five. She thought it was awkward, the Sister’s disliked odd numbers, a sort of superstition. Teams always consisted of pairs, one to watch the other. No matter, she had offset the table so that if there had been six, it would have been the same. Eye for fashion, eye for symmetry.

Bubbles opened the door, the ring had been a code that no Sister would reveal, meaning all was well. The woman outside the door looked as though things were less than well, covered in dirt and burn marks, clothes mostly tatters.

“D’!” Bubbles reached out to touch her partner’s arm, the concern a long time friend would show. Both the controller’s arms were loaded with satchels. The younger partner barely noticed the masked woman to the side, she started toward D’ then back, unsure whether to help her friend or rush inside for a first aid kit.

“Bubbles,” D’s voice was steady but somewhat exasperated, “will you please get Sibling or Gal to invite Her Highness, in?” Sarcasm dripped form the words, Bubbles paused a moment, still concerned for her partner. “Please.”

“Oh,” she stood away from the door, holding it open. “Please, come in.”

When the olive-skinned stranger did not move, Bubbles glanced into D’s emerald eyes. The tall woman’s discomfort was evident, she had a temper, it was slow, but not something to raise. That and the blood trickling from her friend’s lower lip were enough. She stepped into the hallway, pulling a finely woven cloth from her belt and reaching on tip-toe to dab at the wound.

“D’, you need to come in so I can look at that! Put down that stuff!” The stranger crossed her arms, flowing crimson and golden material softly rubbing together. D’ looked hard at Bubbles, a command without words.

“Bubbles, get Sibling or Gal to come to the door, now.” She could hear one of the two coming toward the door now, probably to see what was keeping them. The loft was not large by any means, but the door was down a short hallway, hidden from view from the rest of the space. The front door was actually an old freight passage, separated from the building hall by a steel strapped door on a ramped track. Releasing the door allowed gravity to pull it shut, it clicked softly behind Bubbles. D’ could hear much better than most humans, the scent was Sibling when the door slid open again.

Sibling, probably because the twins dealt with several thoughts at once all the time, took in the scene quickly. D’ was pretty battered but standing straight and trying to maintain her dignity as Bubbles was playing worried sister and nurse without much success, and there was a very imperious looking, sour-faced woman dressed like a Cossack just behind.

D’ gave Sibling one of her looks. Old friends, women that could control and read minds, battle partners that just KNEW what to do.

“Madame Gypsy, come and be welcome in my home. Pass this threshold with my permission.” Sibling did not bow, which they knew would aggravate their guest. The smaller controller also reached out, touching D’s arm briefly, “Lady, please go with Bubbles and use the Medi-Kit.” Smaller, lesser rank and younger; Sibling could still make her words sound like commands.

The newcomer crossed the door first, obviously intent on doing so. Sibling held the door until everyone was inside, then saw the hand sign for ‘Thank you’ from D’ as she set the large bags down on the wooden entry floor. The material was a sort of rough leather, but expertly tooled with runes and signs, stitched in places with gold and shimmering black. The sigils were similar to the stranger’s clothing, deep red cloth with gold and black patterns, obviously of magikal significance (at least to someone who studied it as Sisters did).

The masked woman strode about with a purpose, smelling the cooking and hearing Gal in the kitchen. Her head moved side to side, taking in the rooms, moving toward the sound of sizzling. Never once did her hands leave the sleeves of her draped shirt. Her tall leather boots thudding on the floor, she caught sight of Gal, or at least her midsection between the overhead cabinets and the countertop that separated the cooking area and the dining area. What would have been shoulder height for most people was barely waist height for the tanker.

“You have brought me to the servant’s quarters?” The masked woman turned to face Sibling, who had been quietly following, cat’s feet.

Gal heard an unfamiliar voice, not the words but the sound. She stepped around the counter, finally facing the stranger, apron neatly tied and cooking fork in hand. What was cooking smelled delicious.

It was by good fortune that Angela was the personality at the moment, Cliff would likely have triggered Dominate. As it was, Sibling smiled tightly and walked to Gal’s side, purposely showing her back to the stranger until she was beside her partner.

“Gypsy’s Queen, this is my partner and life mate, Gal O’ War. Refer to her again as anything but,” their voice changed to Cliff’s bass growl, “and we will rescind your invitation to welcome.” For one of her kind, it would mean Gypsy could not leave the home until she was commanded to by Sibling or Gal. It would mean servitude.

Gypsy’s eyes went wide within the webbed face-wear of her mask. She did a quick re-evaluation of this person, very few knew of the old laws that governed her people. Governed only her now. To speak to one of her family this way, in the old world, would have brought a swift death to a respected foe, and a slow one to anyone else.

Sibling touched her forehead, not bowing, but showing that much respect. Gypsy’s Queen removed her arms from her sleeves, showing simply open palms, the same intention: peace and respect. In her country, which was not defined by borders but by family history, showing an open hand indicated a measure of trust and understanding. A hidden or concealed hand was a prelude to battle, a threat.

Gal was confused, missing most of what had led to this. She realized that Cliff wouldn’t speak unless there was some sort of trouble, but her partner gave none of the signs that things were amiss. When Sibling turned again, she winked quickly, letting Gal know things were under control and Gal shrugged.

“Gypsy’s Queen, this is Gal ‘O War. We are Sibling. Gal, this is a guest of the Sisterhood, Gypsy’s Queen.” Gal touched her forehead and was about to perform the shallow bow that accorded the respect given to guests. Sibling’s open hand on her waist indicated otherwise, she quickly recovered. There was some tension, some reason that her senior wanted to place this other woman on notice.

“I will use the accommodations,” no further gestures, no usual appreciation. Gal was beginning to see what might be a problem. “Show me the way.”

Another quickly placed hand on her waist and the retort died on Gal’s lips. Someone giving her senior orders in her house, before the Sisters had taken her in, there would have been knives in the open. As it was, she would follow Sibling’s direction. The small woman gave Gal’s hip a gentle squeeze, unnoticed by the visitor, a subtle message.

“Please follow us, this way.” Angela’s voice. “Gal, please look in on D’ and Bubbles. Make sure they found the first aid kit.” Sibling walked past the Gypsy, who turned and followed into the deeper sections of the loft.



“Sorry to leave you like that, hon.” Bubbles was placing the stitch-patch on her partners deep green lip, some of the brown antiseptic still bubbling. Seated, D’ was still as tall as her partner. Bubbles was concentrating on getting the patch straight, wondering at the same time if some green mascara would hide the bandage. D’ looked at Gal, apology in her eyes.

“No problem, just worried about ya. Wasn’t an easy thing for Bubbles and me, but looks like you had a pretty good afternoon.” Gal grinned, white teeth glowing against her dark lips. D’s smile was crooked, threatening to open the lip again.

“Stop it! Let that heal, you don’t want any scars.” Bubbles collected the pieces of paper and trash littering the floor. This bathroom was just off Sibling and Gal’s bedroom. It was immense, compared to the rest of the loft, with room for both ladies to dress and take their time in preparing for the day. Small kitchen, living room and dining room together, one small spare bedroom and bathroom (where Sibling was waiting until Gypsy was finished), but the master bedroom and bathroom were the stand outs.

“Gal, thank you for getting Bubbles,” she said as she stood up. Bubbles was on her way back to the kitchen with a bowl of used gauze and towellets, to dump them into the trash. Gal could hear the relief in the taller woman’s voice.

“Who broke your tooth?” The tanker saw a broken canine in the other’s smile. “Oh, and it was the other way ‘round. Bubbles saved my butt. You’ve got a great partner there.”

“I know it. She can be talkative, but I wouldn’t trade her for the world.” A green hand reached up to her mouth, rubbing the jagged break, at least half the tooth was gone. “A couple Ancestor Spirits got off some lucky shots, one almost knocked me into the water. Between the 5th and the Tsoo, it wasn’t my best afternoon.”

“What matters is that you made it.” The tanker grabbed her friend in a hug, really meaning it, very glad to know that everyone close to her was safe. It took D’ a little by surprise, and stung a raw spot on her side, but she returned the affection, Sisters.

“Hey,” Gal released the embrace, as normal as men shaking hands, “what did you say to Sibling…in the sewers I mean?”

D’ was pulling off what remained of her pants, the ballistic material spent. One other wonderful reason to visit this team, Gal had a hot tub installed that was long enough even the eight foot tall woman could submerge. That, and the black woman had skin lotions and oils specific for her dark skin, which meant they worked wonders on green skin as well.

“Why?” she stopped and looked at Gal, puzzled.

“Just…Cliff has been different. I mentioned it at the lawyer’s office, but it seems like more than that. He was actually joking with Bubbles this afternoon, they were playin’ cards before you came.” Gal had to look at that broken tooth when D’s mouth fell open, it would grow back but looked bad now.

“Seriously. If I didn’t know Angela, I’d wonder who that was.” Gal stepped to the tub, turning the hot tap and letting the steam rise out of the tiled bath. She missed the look that came over D’s face, a mix between surprise and joy. Maybe Cliff was going to shape up, maybe he just needed to get something off his chest.

“Maybe, Gal, he just needed time,” she eased her aching body into the bubbling bath, the smell of lavender and citrus circling her head. “Ooooh, that’s good.”

“Enjoy. I got to turn dinner back on, it’ll be a while. Don’t rush, babe.” Gal turned the makeup counter light off and dimmed the overhead before closing the door.

The ‘urgent message waiting’ tone sounded on their phones at almost the same time. D’ had her phone to her ear faster, Gal getting the same message a few seconds delayed. Combat reflexes wakened, the dark-skinned tank turned toward the security door more than a mile distant, again D’ was faster. Her green, manicured, hand gripped into Gal’s cotton dress-shirt, pressing with intensity into her shoulder. Two flashes of light and the tall women were on their way, appearing and disappearing every few hundred yards in the direction of the portal.

“DIVA!” Her mind rang with the message, breaking her concentration and her teleport high above the street. The intensity was one reserved for death or war.

Arms outstretched, Gal caught the edge of a building, saving herself from several hundred feet of falling. She saw that D’ was distracted, tumbling over and over toward the ground. D’ could fly and teleport, but didn’t seem to be doing either. Gal had seen villains occasionally get off a lucky shot when heroes appeared, stunning them and then setting on them before anyone knew what had happened.

Gal’s tiara glowed brightly, the original source of her powers. The top of this building was clear, a second later both D’ and Gal stood alone, D’ still looking stunned.

The tanker grabbed both of D’s arms, shaking her, “D’! Wake up! We have’ta get ta the Hollows!” Another vigorous shake and the controller pushed away, taking a step back and holding out one hand.

“Thirty Infernal Gods! Gal, no time to explain. I can’t go, another job, from The Lady. No argument, I’m off for Indy Port. Get to the Hollows, NOW!” The green woman disappeared in a flash of light, and Gal immediately started for the fire escape. Teleport self had to be next on her power wish list, having to run everywhere was just not making it.

Just as she reached the top of the ladders, another flash of light. She found herself at ground level, D’s smile fading into another flash, the controller hadn’t forgotten Gal’s limited travel abilities. Now it was back toward the security door as fast as sprint could carry her, no time to stop for her battle clothes.

D’ moved as fast as she could, teleporting across the zone on the way to Independence Port. Not happy, not happy at all that The Lady had taken her from her partner. She would not question, would follow the instructions given, but was not pleased by them. From the start, Sisters were trained to always stand beside their partner, to the detriment of all else, it was like a homing instinct. The saying was : “Loyalty to the team, Fealty to the Sisterhood, Life for the Partner”. A single Sister was formidable, a team was unstoppable.

The Lady had been precise, as always, and direct: the daughter of one of the last of the Old Races was coming to the Port, and she carried knowledge which must be protected. The Ladies had accepted the charge from another, the final request from a dying friend, which had been intercepted by others in transit. Already, this woman had been attacked several times just reaching the Port, and it was believed that both Tsoo and 5th Column were waiting to ambush the arriving ship. D’s partner might be in danger, but she was the only Sister in range that might be able to handle the threat and, D’ did not understand how, be able to see the newcomer.

“Riddles!” she said under her breath between dimensions as she passed into the Port’s entrance. It would be important, Morgaine rarely sent word directly, and was one of the few who could over so great a distance. D’ saw a gangplank swing up to a looming ship’s deck, the vessel still pushed by tugs while being tied to the dock.

The forward tug caught her eye, or rather a long rope ladder extending up from it to the ship’s deck did. Several red and black uniforms were climbing quickly, and they did not seem to be Stevedores. That fit perfectly with the brightly dressed, tattooed thugs already climbing the gangway, Tsoo and 5th Column were already on the scene.

“Great.” Hair trailing behind, she flew towards the ship, still unsure where, or who, she was meeting. -Gal would love this- she thought, -Nazis are her favorite people.-


Bubbles hated The Hollows, Gal was still wondering what could drag the small defender out here. Broken ground, huge mobs and general mayhem described the area best, and Bubbles always avoided it unless absolutely necessary.

Locating the defender took less time than Gal had thought, her phone was still on-the-air, and Gal’s could read the signal, guiding her like a compass. The worrisome part was that the only audio coming over sounded like grinding rock and flames. Gal knew something about rock, even one of the Outcast Bricks had a different sound, this was going to be something new.

-Take it slow girl-, she thought. The signal was coming from the bottom of one of the pitted areas, where the pavement and earth had fallen away during the Upheaval. Not a good place to be if you couldn’t fly or jump. Gal knew that going down there meant finding another way out, or having someone TP her out.

She avoided several groups of Trolls and Vahzilok, still going strong even after the Doctor’s defeat, to peer over the rim. There, at the bottom of the ravine, was Bubbles, lying face down several feet from her phone, covered in powdered rock. She didn’t move, even after several minutes, but Gal couldn’t see any danger. Whatever had happened was obviously over, only a pile of steaming rocks a little ways away remaining.

Gal jumped into the ravine, making her way to Bubbles. Then she heard the grinding of stone again, looking twice at the steaming rocks until she realized humanoid figures were rising from the earth itself!

“Run!” was all Bubbles had time to say, staggering as the Revive patch glowed on her arm. “They’re some kind of new monsters! Run!”

“Not without you, Sweetness.” Gal moved between Bubbles and the rapidly multiplying horde of white beasts, calling up Earth’s Embrace and Mud Pots. Looking at them, she knew she had to give the smaller girl time to recover, how much time she wasn’t sure. It would be rough, a glancing blow from one massive fist almost knocked her off her feet.

She was swallowing the last of her Rapid-Heal Fitness Bars, barely getting the bite-sized miracle to her mouth before another blow landed, when a voice from behind gave her hope.

“Bubbles for you, Gal ‘O War!” That was the Shock Bubble she knew. Dispersion and Force Bubbles sprang to life, deflecting the worst of the punishment. The villains didn’t even look scratched.

“Come ON, hon!” Flying by in her newest white outfit, Shock Bubble careened through the crowd, heading to what she knew was a gap in the ravine. It was the same gap she had used to flee a group of Outcasts, and ultimately led to this mass of spawning rocks. The defender turned to cover Gal’s retreat with lightning.

It was close, both using the last of their Inspirations to leave the area, Bubbles doing the heavy work of stalling the pursuers with lightning and force fields. Gal decided she definitely was getting some TP self at her next clearance.

As they sat, backs against an abandoned building in relative safety, Bubbles poked at the tears in her costume.

Gal brushed white stone from her afro, “How did you get into that, girl?”

“Team called, needed some defenders and thought I would go help them out. One is an old friend, but just getting there was trouble, should’ve known, Hollows and all but I said I’d come over and do what I could. Had to dodge some Outcasts and ended up in that dead end, thought I was safe until those things sprang up out of the ground. Nasty, called Pumicites and Magmites, and they have no manners.” Bubbles always talked fast and had never, in Gal’s memory, taken a breath.

The girl’s eyes twinkled, “Ogolo, Mubagwa!” She mimicked the sounds the villains had made, holding out her thin arms in imitation.

Gal laughed, deep and long. This was her favorite battle partner, even over Sibling. The twins were lifelong companions, but could be brooding and serious. There was never a battle that this girl couldn’t make funny, even scratched and beaten as they had been. She glanced over at Bubbles, who was trying to get her top to stay together with most of the buckles missing. She was easily distracted now, but rock solid in battle, Gal cleared her throat.

“Bubbles, can I ask you something?” Just getting up the nerve to say it aloud took the tanker a moment.

“Sure hon, what’s up?” The defender shifted and faced Gal, all attention now.

“It’s Sibling, or Cliff, specifically.” Gal paused, then let it rush out.

“Since the accident with the Vahz, when I thought Ang would die,” Bubbles was sometimes inattentive, but she had a very sharp mind and noticed that Gal mentioned worry for one twin and not the other, “the fight in the loft when I swore at Cliff. Since D’ and Sibling came back, things have been….different.”

Bubbles saw the look of confusion in her friend’s face, like she was trying to identify a flavor or a feeling. She stayed quiet, maybe the tanker was working out something and just needed to talk it through.

“The day after they came back, Angela asked if I wanted the twins split, like physically.” A heavy shadow seemed to pass behind Gal’s eyes. “She wanted to know if I would still let Cliff be around. Asked if I would still be her partner, if Cliff left would I still treat her the same.” Gal was pacing, a sign Bubbles knew meant she was working on something.

The pause grew long, “Why?” the defender finally asked.

“I didn’t know at first, thought I would be happy to have Angela free from that Son of a Goat. I didn’t say it, didn’t know what she was really asking. I said the same thing: ‘Why?’” The tanker stopped, a few feet from Bubbles, looking straight at her.

“Then it was Cliff, they switch just that fast. He said if I asked, if it was what I really wanted, he could leave,” Bubbles saw Gal clench her fist, probably unconsciously, “forever.”

Bubbles was at a loss, very rare. She couldn’t tell if Gal was going to say what her answer had been, then one more bombshell dropped.

“He apologized to me, babe.” Bubbles jaw actually dropped open. “I think he and D’ had a conversation in the sewers, not that the twins have said, but he’s different now. Angela is still in charge most of the time, but he talks more, and is actually nice. She mentioned something about the disease interfering with their ability to both be conscious at the same time, now it’s more like when she’s awake, he’s asleep, and the same the other way. They don’t know what’s happened during their ‘sleeps’ like they used to.”

“So, what’s the problem? Did you tell him he should go?” Bubbles couldn’t wait any longer.

“Thing is, babe,” Gal looked at her toes, sheepish, “I kinda’ like him now. I don’t know what D’ told him, but he’s a lot more civil than he used to be. Two weeks ago, I would have paid to have him gone, now,” she held out her hands, “I told him to stay.”

She held up one finger, smiling, “But, I told him to stay out of our bed!”

Gal was happy, Bubbles could see that. She had needed someone to talk to, someone that even her partner could not be, especially could not be. The defender stood, jumping around like a rabbit and clapping.

“Yayy!” Then remembering where they were, she quieted slightly, “yayy.”

Picking their way back to the security door, Gal invited Bubbles to dinner, with Cliff. Bubble’s phone was useless, fairly well smashed, but she had Gal’s dialing the number for D’ in a split second.

“Tell them to make place for us, and one more,” D’s deep voice came from the Port. “We have a guest, on her way to The Island, but staying with us for a few days.” There was a noise in the background, someone else speaking.

“She wants to know if wine, or something stronger, is available.”

Several days have passed since the Sewers. Sibling is back on patrol and things are returning to normal. Gal tearfully turned in her resignation at Tony's, she was uncomfortable with the long commute and being so far from the Loft. The near loss of her partner and the offer from D's "friend" made her rethink the job.

“Miss…War?” The tiny, bespectacled man raised his eyes. Looking suspiciously over the wire framed lenses, he held the sheaf of paperwork in his left hand, adjusting the somehow ill-fitting glasses with his other.

“It’s Gal,” she was becoming annoyed by the weasely-faced attorney. They, Diva and Gal, had been in the book-lined office for over an hour, and he still insisted on getting her name wrong. In street clothes, she still was an impressive sight, having to crouch to enter the old Brownstone. The chairs were no better, so she chose to stand.

“Mr. Leskie, you told me that there were some specific instructions.” Diva had had enough, she had actually asked Gal to come here, and this insulted her and her friend. “We have been very patient, but there are crimes to prevent and jobs to do, so please,” the green giant bared her very prominent canine teeth, “Get on with it!”

The man’s bald head became wet with sweat, and a sudden tremble started in his palsied hands. He knew that these were both female heroes, Diva had been on the front page of the Paragon last week. Gal had been honored by the Mayor for breaking, literally, up a Hellions gathering. He glanced, craning his neck painfully, up to take in the menacing smile on the woman’s face.

“Yeh…Yes.” The attorney mopped his forehead with a very expensive, monogrammed linen handkerchief.

“Ma’am. You may refer to myself, or my associate, as Miss or Ma’am. Anything otherwise will be considered an insult, MISTER Leskie.” D’ did not even need to emphasize, did not flex her very substantial arms, the point was made entirely with her eyes.

“Yes…Ma’am.” His upbringing was that women did not interfere with legal matters, they were rarely even consulted. This woman, he feared this woman, not entirely due to her strength, she had a very sharp mind as well.

“As I was saying, Ma’am.” The hesitation was very brief, ”My client has indicated that Miss Gal is to be given access to the entire first floor of the Darkman Lancer Building in King’s Row.” He flipped several pages, suddenly much more efficient in his actions, all pretense at delay now gone.

“He has further instructed Walmer, Chelsea and Leskie,” the firm in which they stood, a well-respected land management agency for King’s Row and Steel Canyon, “That the facility be used for a Bar and Restaurant, Upscale,” he glanced over his glasses again, “restaurant and bar. Being fitted out to Miss Gal’s instructions,” he appeared to have difficulty with the next statement, “costs born in total by the owner.”

He held up a finger, “Dependent upon Miss Gal accepting the responsibility of managing and handling the facility.”

Gal looked over at D’, stunned. D’ had a knowing smile, mischief in her green eyes. Gal felt that there was some sort of joke here, one she could not figure. Gifts were not accepted, neither by Gal nor by her partner Sibling, it was a mantra they shared and did not swerve from. This smelled like something related to charity, but there were always strings.

“I need ta speak ta D’ in private,” her gaze was direct, D’ nodded. “Let’s go outside for a minute.”

Standing on the well-aged stairs outside the four story building, Gal turned to D’.

“Whas goin’ on here, D’? Nobody gets anything for free, specially not me.” She had to look up only slightly, as tall as Gal was, D’ was an inch or so taller. “Who is this guy, and why is he tryin’ ta give me a restaurant? I ain’t no restaurant manager! Do you have something ta do with it?”

D’ placed a gloved hand on Gal’s forearm, in a manner good friends or fighting partners would. The motion spoke of trust and respect,

“Gal, I honestly do not know who the benefactor is. I do know he has never asked anything from me except to take good care of his property and treat people like people.” She moved her hand and took a step back, leaning against the brickwork. “How do you think I got the Spa? When Almira brought me here, I had nothing, and you know the Sisters require you to make your own way, they didn’t finance it.”

The black tanker knew a little about D’s history, and now that she considered it, she realized that D’ couldn’t have afforded the small day spa on her own. As popular as it was, especially among non-human citizens, getting the money to start it would have been tough. For someone with D’s past, or lack of one in this dimension, and her peculiar similarity to some less respected creatures, a bank would have been out. She had a hard time just getting across town without people running from her in fear of an invasion.

“This same, sour-mouthed, attorney contacted me a few months before I started Ladies Retreat,” the name of her Spa, “and made me the same offer. He said this owner had a building currently in disrepair, occupied by a few villains, and he wanted to know if I could help clean them out. Once I did, he made the offer of space and complete furnishing. I pay market rate rent and utilities. The one requirement is that I have to hire employees from the gang-recovery program over on Oliver Street.

“I’ve never met the owner, and the lawyers won’t tell me who he is. Never had an issue though,” the green woman smiled and winked, “and the business makes enough to keep Bubbles in clothes.” They both laughed, Bubbles was probably the most fashionable hero in the city, she actually had a fashion line at Icon named after her. The senior partner in a team was required by the Sisters, and their SG, to provide for the younger. The lesser partner meanwhile followed instructions, generally handled everyday tasks and was routinely tested for skill and development. Those outside the inner workings of the Sisterhood would call it an apprentice-master relationship, those inside knew it was much more. Not all. Or even many, were as close as Sibling and Gal, but that was by choice.

“I trust you, no question,” Gal made a motion with her left hand, a secret symbol. The meaning held loyalty and obedience, unquestioning to this senior in the Order. D’ straightened, stiffening, and looked to the side. The sort of trust Gal and Bubbles displayed was sometimes humbling, but thrilling.

“Gal, you don’t owe me anything. We both do what we think is best,” she gripped the tanker’s arm again, “but I would say this is too good to refuse. I have had nothing but good come from it. It is your decision.” Sibling and Gal both enjoyed the Spa, D’ had a very expensive but luxurious establishment, catering to women and occasionally men. Gal had always suspected that Bubbles had arranged the financing through one of her ‘friends’, but it seemed she was wrong.

A moment later, Gal’s phone started playing the tune from AC/DC’s “Little Lover”, the ring specifically for calls from Sibling. She flipped the tiny device open.

“Yes, Gal”, Angela’s voice came from the other end. “We could tell even from here.” Her voice was excited, too. D’ had already brought the subject up, senior partner to senior partner. “We knew but didn’t want to force you into anything…and you do not have to ask permission. No matter what the laws say, we back you in any decision.”

Gal’s smile told D’ all she needed to know. The controller walked back to the doorway and held the worn, very sturdy even by hero standards, door open for the other woman. D’ knew that Gal had always worried about doing her part, about being up to her Sister’s standards, and no amount of reassurance ever seemed to put those worries to rest. Sibling absolutely depended on her partner, would walk through fire to be beside her. Gal would face down any odds for the same reason, for any of the group.

“Let’s see this place then,” Gal placed one thumb on the Authenti-Kate panel next to the form. A moment later, her image and Clearance Badge number printed across the contract.

The afternoon would be spent inspecting the building, which Gal realized had been a 5th Column base until a week ago when she and Bubbles had cleared it. There was even some warehouse space and some still operating computer equipment. The frowning lawyer indicated that it hosted an online artwork service for another client.

The building was old, very solidly built and had enough metal in it to interfere with cell coverage. Neither Gal nor D’ noticed their coverage drop, and so also did not receive a desperate call from The Hollows. The message, once they left several hours later, was garbled.

“Need backup….ollows on mish….micites and Mag…” and the sounds of the phone hitting rock.

We are not worthy! The costumes, imagination and detail in the winners, and likely many others, is amazing! Wow, our respect.
Sibling

The sewers smelled the same, every time she was down here, and the saying was true: “You never forget that smell.” The worst part was getting the stink out of uniforms, even the special fabrics from Icon didn’t seem able to avoid getting infused with the odor of decay.

At least Sibling’s contact had been right, there were more Vahzilok in these tunnels than normal, and plenty of Abominations, Reapers and Mortificators. D’ and Sibling, currently Cliff being the dominant personality, had already destroyed three bodies but their information was that four bodies were missing. They were really trying to find the plague virus, but as yet had no idea where that was. As usual, it was ‘follow the stream of near-dead and the tunnels’ to what would hopefully be a cure for Sibling.

“Are you okay?” D’ was concerned about how quickly the other controller seemed to be getting winded, and how long it took her to catch her breath. Sibling stood against one wall, breathing hard after the last battle, which would normally have been fairly easy.

“Get tired faster,” between breaths, Cliff was more subdued than earlier, actually using a civil tone. “Seems like an effect of the disease. On the good side, it seems like we don’t get banged up as much, and heal a little faster.” The woman stood up, not meeting D’s concerned eyes. “Let’s go, Angela’s working overtime to hold it off.”

Sibling walked past D’, not paying attention to her outstretched hand. The words of comfort died on the green woman’s lips, the male twin’s voice was always cold, distant. She watched as her partner moved to the end of the room, swaying slightly but determined.

Near the door, Sibling stopped and turned just enough to catch D’s eye. The tall controller knew there was something her partner wanted to say, maybe a little humanity after all the bitterness.

“If you aren’t coming along, you can leave anytime,” Cliff sneered.

D’ rushed the door, as much as she wanted to, she knew that Angela was in Sibling’s body as well, and that meant hands off. She was through the door and looking for something to vent on, something that she could exhaust her righteous anger upon, though it was the male twin she wanted to slap around. How could they be so different, they lived in the same body! D’ loved Angela like a younger sister, and wanted to use Cliff as a mop.

“You cannot stop me!” Boomed a voice, D’ rounded a corner nearest a sewage control platform at full speed, intent on smashing something besides the twins. She slid to a stop face-to-face with the infamous Dr. Vahzilok.

-He’s bigger than I thought he would be- she had time to think before everything broke loose.

A roomful of Abominations, Mort’s and various other near-dead, along with the Doctor and some time later, D’ was still seething. Sibling was opening a refrigerated container, after telling her senior partner in no uncertain terms to stay back. As the smaller woman finished scanning and sampling the contents, she capped the container and placed it into a carry bag. The controller turned to D’,

“Well, having you along at least speeded things up. Did I mention that your skin is perfect camouflage in the sewers?”

“That’s ENOUGH!” D’ was fast, not to mention incredibly strong. She had Sibling, Cliff, pinned against a wall with one fist while the other hauled back, green fire sparking in her eyes. “What the Hell do you have against the world? Do you not understand that I want to help you? Because, if you don’t care about living, by The Goddess, I want Angela to go on for a long time.” Bricks and mortar rained from her fist as it struck the wall close to Cliff’s head.

“If you can’t be decent, get OUT of her body! For as long as I have known you, you have never had a kind word for anyone, including your lover. Even Gal would be glad to see you gone, it tears her up to know that Angela has to deal with you. So, here and now, as Angela and Gal’s friend, as your Damn Superior,” she spat the words into his face, “in the Sisterhood, you are going to tell me WHAT your Problem IS!”

“My body,” gasped the male voice around the tightening fist.

“What?” Her fist slacked slightly, still holding Cliff high above the floor, but giving him breath. Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“This is my body.” His voice was quiet, D’ was glad for her peculiar ears or it might have been lost to the splash of the sewage from various pipes and dumps. “It’s been my body since the accident. Something you didn’t know,” Sibling’s eyes were clear, but the voice had a tone D’ had never heard from the male before, almost kind.

“We never told Gal, or Bubbles, and Angela can’t speak of it. Almira knows, she’s seen the inside of both of us. She was *****, D’. She wanted to die! I don’t know how, but I wouldn’t let it happen, and we ended up in my body.” This was the most truth the twins had ever told anyone, Almira knew the whole story, but only because she had been in the twin’s head.

“I don’t hate any of you, but Angela wants to care for everyone, and that won’t work either. One of us has to be suspicious, I have to take care of my sister, D’,” small drops of water formed on the back of the gloved fist the tall woman held Sibling up with. Tears were dripping from the slight woman’s nose. “She’s all I have.”

Over four years, D’ had known Sibling for over four years, basically since The Lady had brought her to this world. In all that time, she had never known this part of the twin’s story, and was willing to bet even Gal didn’t know. Cliff had always been bitter, most times hateful to everyone, even on the Island. It was rare that Angela was not the dominant personality, but those times were miserable. How Gal dealt with it all the time, D’ had wondered.

D’ carefully set Sibling on the platform, stunned. She knew small parts of the story, Angela had hinted at some of it, but all her friends knew that it was a very painful episode, and did not ask about it. Her anger drained away, many things made sense that she had only assumed at before.

“Oh Goddess…Cliff, I….” She brushed a tear away from their cheek with the back of her hand. She knew something of sadness, but could work it out by dealing with threats and being a hero. Pulled from her world, trapped in this one, she also understood what being alone meant, and lonely.

Cliff reached up, not angrily, and caught the large hand. He took it the way a man would, clapping it between both of Sibling’s smaller ones.

“Now you know, and Angela realizes because we are both in here.” He actually smiled, crookedly and like it was a foreign movement. “We will expect that this can stay private?”

“Can you doubt? But why?” His smile was actually sort of cute, she thought.

“If Gal knew, she might misunderstand. She thinks she loves only Angela, which means she can always blame me for problems, and that’s fine with me. We both care a lot for her.”

“Wait,” D’ made a face and waggled her free hand’s fingers, “If that’s your body, and you’re a guy, what happened to…” She waggled her fingers again.

It was a first, the young woman’s face flushed deep crimson, and Cliff was actually embarrassed. He looked at the floor when he spoke.

“You can fly, throw people around with your mind, and you wonder how we maintain a woman’s body?” There was a moment of awkward silence, then Sibling laughed.

The sewer still smelled terrible, the air was still heavy with decay, but many things were clear. When the two stepped back into the fresh air under a sky, Cliff felt the weight of his secret a little lighter, and D’ felt a lot more understanding for why he acted like he did.


Miles away, outside the medical facility in Skyway City, a small group of coated scientists were just unloading their gear from a van. Gal was already there, and a moment later, Bubbles teleported in, retrieved from the loft by the black tanker’s powers.

Gal had been adamant that the entire team be made up of women, after hearing Bubble’s concerns about doctors in general. Bubbles had been in the loft every second the cleaning crew had been, keeping them all within sight. Far from irrational, her experiences had been less than pleasant in the past, and there were several doctors at Crey Labs she was looking for to clarify her suspicions.

The pink and blue cell phone on Bubbles fashionably-loose belt chimed,

“D’, did you get it? We were worried about how long it was taking, but Gal said if anyone could handle Cliff and Dr. Vahz together it was you and that we shouldn’t be too concerned except that you get the sample, and Oh, we just left the loft…” Gal rolled her eyes and motioned with her arms for Bubbles hurry up, more anxious than she wanted to be.

“Bubbles, slow down.” It was Angela on the other end. “We are just leaving the research lab in Steel.”

Gal saw the look on Bubble’s face, knew it was good news and grabbed the phone. It was even smaller than her own, something cutting edge, no doubt. She couldn’t hold it to her ear and speak into the mouthpiece at the same time.

“Is she Okay?” She expected to hear Cliff’s voice, bracing herself for his acidic reply. Knowing her partner was alright was all that mattered.

“Yeah, we’re all better, Love.” Gal’s face was blissful, her ivory smile wide and sparkling at the sound of the voice. “D’ wants to talk to you for a minute, but we’ll meet you at the loft.”

“Thank the Seven! We’re on our way, Babe!” Gal grabbed Bubble’s jacket and the two were sprinting for King’s Row. The tanker knew she could outrun the tram this time of day. The phone made a quiet buzz for a moment, then the other controller’s voice came on.

“Gal, this is D’,” besides being the two tallest women on the island, the two had also been good friends. “I think we need to sit down and talk.” Gal didn’t like the tone, but right now, nothing could bother her.

“I bumped into a guy I know over here, and he wants to make you a business offer. Do you still have your bartender’s license?” Cell coverage dropped out just as the tanker and defender sprinted into the tunnel.

This is the continuation of a thread that started on Tony's Bar and Grill. It will follow the lives (RP lives) of several characters, prominently Sibling, Gal 'O War, Shock Bubble, Almira and the mysterious D'. As the title implies, they are all linked by their past, receiving training at "The Lake", which is in reverence to the writer's beliefs. I hope to bring these characters a life that only good RP-ers ever achieve in game, an actual life outside smashing baddies on the streets. I also intend to make you think, have characters go through life altering and belief questioning episodes . Feel free to post comments, or offer plot lines, but unlike an open RP, the author reserves the right to have plot twists ignored if they don't fit with the overall story. Not ladies only, but certainly Lady-centric. See Sibling's last post on Tony's for the lead in story. Hopefully: Enjoy.


“What, in Hell, happened?!” Gal knelt by the couch in their loft. Sibling was awake, but had a sickly yellow glow and leaned into a stack of decorative pillows. D’ and Bubbles stood back, having exhausted their healing and enervating skills, with no noticeable effect.

“Gal,” Bubbles stepped closer, “D’ tried her heals, and I tried all the buffs I know. Should we call Almira?”

“No,” a male voice came from the woman on the couch, “we know what to do. One of the scientists Patient Zero had told us, Bubbles was there.” Everyone’s attention was immediately on the slight form, she moved to rise.

“You lay there, girl!” Gal could easily hold Sibling down, D’ might be the only one in the room that could stop Gal, but the black woman’s hand was gentle, not pressing her partner down. “You ain’t in any condition to be up. Stay down!” Sibling brushed the hand off, scowling as only the man in Sibling could.

“Gal, Angela will put up with your mothering,” the tone indicated Cliff would not. Sibling stood up, barely reaching her partner’s chest. Size was not what measured a hero, and Gal knew that tone of voice. Cliff was as hard as Angela was gentle, if he was the dominant personality, it meant the twins had agreed.

“Doctor Vahzilok is about to have a visit,” Sibling moved towards the door, ignoring the others, typical of Cliff’s attitude.

“I think you’re nuts! You ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Gal moved to block the door. Both Bubbles and D’ tried to disappear, figuratively, into the furniture. Bubble’s pink eyebrows shot up comically and D’ had to suppress a laugh.

Gal stood facing the controller, her substantial black arms crossed and blocking the door. D’ saw that this was going to be serious, there was no way Sibling was going to take “No” for an answer and no way Gal was going to move. If she hadn’t known the pair for some time, she would have thought a fight was coming. As it was, she’d never seen the two have anything more than cross words, and that was usually Cliff. He lacked…finesse.

The small controller made a sign in the air with her left hand, “I claim the right of the Elder,” the male voice came from the woman’s body again. “You will not defy me, Gal ‘O War, stand aside.”

“Oh bejeezus” was Bubble’s half breathed comment.

The look that came across Gal’s face was ice. “Damn you, Cliff. Angela would never use that against me.” Smoke all but rolled from the tanker’s ears, the jewel in her tiara glowed a hateful shade of red. With clenched fists, she took a step away from the door, scowling at her partner.

“I’ll go with her, Gal,” D’ was speaking and moving at once, her eyes narrowed at the male voice invoking one of the sacred rites. Angela, unlike her twin brother, was much more amicable and easy to deal with, but even he couldn’t get the job done in their current state.

“Cliff will allow it, or I will use the same privilege.” She bared a tattoo and gave Sibling a glanced that dared Cliff to say something. The most senior of the group, only Almira or one of the Ladies could nay say the green woman.

“Bubbles,” she wasn’t comfortable leading, but was quite good at it, “you need to take Gal and find Dr. Steinburg. He needs to get a cleaning crew in here and sanitize the place. Once we find Vahz, we’ll bring back whatever he’s using and get an antidote made.”

Gal bowed her head slightly, not at all happy about Sibling leaving the loft, but much happier knowing D’ would be with her. There wasn’t much D’ couldn’t handle. Bubbles ducked her head and headed out the door, Gal passing a frozen glance over Sibling but meant only for Cliff. It was met with a smirk.

D’ waited until the two younger women were down the stairs outside, then turned to Sibling.

“She hates you, and you deserve it. Pray that Crey never figures out a way to split you and Angela. I wouldn’t give you five minutes, and that includes travel time.”

“Don’t lecture me, Green.” Cliff was in high form, he could offend the paint on a wall, as different from his sister as possible. “As long as she loves Angela, that’s all that matters.” The green-skinned woman turned, this was something she had never heard from the male twin.

“Surprised?” Sibling grabbed a medical bag and scanner from beside the table, her contact had been specific that samples needed to be taken for the cure to be made.

“You may not realize it,” grabbing the door handle, “I love my sister, too, and Gal. As long as she dislikes me, she can excuse anything Angela does as my influence. She’s never angry with my sister, and that suits me fine.” The controller looked far up into D’s eyes, “we both love Gal a lot.”

They were off, one pair going to find the cure deep (and face Dr. Vahzilok himself) in the sewers, the other to find a cleaning crew and arrest the spread of the Vahzilok Wasting Disease.

Sir,
We have a few possible answers to your questions, and while not as accomplished as you are, we've been around the blocks once or twice. If we may be so bold, please see the explanations, and if you care to, stop by our offices in King's Row for some of the legal briefs regarding property destruction ordinances in the city.
1) Hero 1 was very respected by heroes, but by the City in general even more. According to PC Statute 103.25.4 (since amended and revised to allow any over 20lvl to honor 1 by wearing a cape): In respect of the sacrifce made by Hero 1 protecting the this great city, no hero or heroine doing business with, providing aid to or receiving assistance from the city is allowed to wear a cape, defined by any accoutrement or accessory draping from the back or collar of the uniform. Any device or wearable accessory which is prominent in the rear of the hero attire must be solid or fitted in such a way that it does not flutter or flap in breezes or due to flight. Crey also has a specialized quick-tab design that tears away under pressure, or their proprietary "Everslick" model that is covered in a zero friction material making grabbing or snagging almost impossible.

Addressing the villain aspect, there have been several explanations provided to the court. The most likely is the exact reasons you gave for not wearing one, mainly the danger of entanglement or use against the wearer. CoT members have been seen wearing robes which resemble capes, but generally were quickly arrested, and perhaps unseen by the mass public.

2) The press in this dimension have learned a hard lesson. During the Rikti invasion, over 70% of the investigative reporters, and 56% of the photo journalists died on assignment. Sniping of civilians by the villains was a major cause, and the fact that the Rikti do not pose for interviews well. Heroes were also sorely tested to keep the civilian press out of harms way, most especially due to reporters sneaking into crash sites for information.
There was word that some heroes were killed in action attempting rescues on the ignorant reporters (ignorant of the implications of their actions), and this led to the commonly held "Reporters get last priority in battle" belief. Their numbers are climbing again, and a few can be found in King's Row or Steel Canyon, but we avoid them. Secret Identities are hard enough to hide without the attention.

3) A hero friend of ours, Phayzed, routinely throw objects (and receives bills for) forklifts, manhole covers, LP tanks, pianos and pool tables. As a controller, they make higher instant damage items than fists, but likely the heavier duty heroes have stronger weapons at their disposal. Find a hero with telekinesis and ask them to demonstrate. We have been hit with lumber and myriad trash bins by villains, and sometimes wish the city would simply clear the streets of such props, but the public needs them.

For legal opinion, feel free to contact our offices. Cliff is the Lawyer, Angela the Psychiatrist.
And welcome!