A Whateley Academy Tale

Imp 9: An Imp-eriled Heart

by

Morpheus

Part Four

Manhattan NY, Monday morning, Dec 31st 2007

“Good morning,” I greeted Chris as he staggered into the room, still groggy and half asleep. I was sitting at the table, wearing pajamas while I sipped my coffee and looked over some of my plans for winter term classes. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” he answered in a tone that indicated that his sleep was anything but.

“Do you want something to eat?” I asked as I got up and went to the kitchen. He nodded half-heartedly as he took a seat at the table. A minute later, I set a bowl of cereal in front of him.

“Cocoa Puffs?” he asked.

I just shrugged and admitted, “I’m domestically challenged. I don’t usually make anything more complicated than this.”

Chris stared at me for a moment before shaking his head and turning his attention to breakfast. I could imagine what he was thinking, maybe about how Suzie Q used to cook real breakfasts or something.

“When I’m feeling real fancy, I can get a bit better,” I told him with a grin, a chuckle, and a swish of my tail. “Leggo my Eggo.”

He took a big bite of cereal, then pointed out, “You have pajamas that look like your uniform?”

I glanced down at my red and black pajamas. “They’re both comfortable and stylish.”

“Why would you custom make pajamas like that?” he asked blankly.

“Why wouldn’t you?” I responded with perfect logic.

Then I grinned, realizing that I was now in a position to one day use the phrase ‘because I said so,’ or maybe even ‘I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it.’ There were some unexpected benefits to taking Chris in like this.

I slipped back into my chair and took another sip of coffee, noticing that while Chris ate, his eyes were on my pendant, which I’d left in the middle of the table. He had a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I think I used up a lot of its charge over the last couple days,” I explained with a shrug. “I’ll have to be careful with it until I can get back to Whately and pay Grimes or Chulkris to recharge it for me.”

“How does it work?” Chris asked curiously.

“Minor cosmetic illusion, or so I’ve been told,” I explained with a shrug. “I got it in exchange for a job, about two years ago. It doesn’t change my whole appearance, just my GSD. It hides that and makes me look like I would if I didn’t have GSD.”

“So, that was what you’d really look like,” he mused.

“Pretty much,” I agreed. “Kind of boring compared to this fabulousness….” I gestured towards myself and grinned.

Chris gave a wry smile as though humoring me. “I bet something like that would be really useful for...some of my friends.”

“Like Darqueheart?” I asked.

He blushed at that but nodded. “Yeah. And Monkeywrench.”

I smirked at his reaction but decided not to say anything about it. I’d have plenty of time to tease him about girls he liked later on. Besides, I liked Darqueheart. She reminded me a bit of myself, but without my amazing sense of humor.

“She’s a finger wiggler,” I pointed out. “Sooner or later, she’ll probably figure out how to make one of her own, or maybe she’ll learn some kind of illusion spell. Honestly, I don’t know enough about how her magic works to know for sure. What I do know, is that there are a lot of your classmates who could benefit from this kind of thing, and there are a number of ways to do it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Like I said,” I told him, gesturing towards my pendant. “You’ve got magic items and spells. There are gadgets and devises that can do wonders with holograms. And there’s one kid at the school, Greasy, who makes this amazing fake skin and some really impressive masks.”

“I’ve heard about him,” Chris said with a disapproving look, probably due to the other boy’s reputation.

“Incognito does some fine work that way too,” I added almost as an afterthought.”

“Yeah,” Chris responded with a nod of agreement.

“There are lots of camouflage tricks that people with GSD can use to avoid drawing too much attention,” I continued. “It’s easier for some than for others.” Then I chuckled and admitted, “For most of my life, I’ve had to make do with Groucho Marx glasses.”

Chris gave me a skeptical look, but I just shrugged in response. After all, while that may not have been completely accurate, it was close enough to the truth that I didn’t bother correcting it.

“That sounds…tough,” Chris said, giving me a curious look. “I mean, looking so different.”

“It is what it is,” I responded with another shrug before changing the subject. “Now then, what should we do for the day? Most of my DVDs are in my apartment at Whateley, but I still have a few movies and cartoons here we can watch…”

I stepped back and looked over my work, taking mental notes of what I still needed to adjust before I really moved forward. The outline on my canvas was coming along nicely, but the painting still had a long way to go before it was done.

“That should do it for now,” I mused, deciding to take a break.

After cleaning up and putting my tools away, I left my work room and went to the living room where Chris was sitting on the couch in the exact same place where he’d been the last time I checked on him. It was mid-afternoon and Chris had been there for half the day.

At another time, I might have thought that he was just moping, but I knew better than that. Chris was depressed and with damn good reason. He’d lost nearly everything, and his entire life had been upended. And on top of that, he was probably dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt at the same time. I was no expert on those things, but thought that it might not be a bad idea for him to get some kind of therapy or counselling once we got back to Whateley.

My heart ached for the boy, and I wished that there was something I could do to help. Unfortunately, learning that I was his birth mother was probably one of the issues that he was now dealing with. Maybe I could distract him from his grief since I was practically an expert when it came to distracting people, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t be enough.

“He needs someone to talk to,” I mused to myself. “Someone he trusts.” Then I paused as an idea came to me. “A friend.”

“Come on, Chris,” I told him a few seconds later. “Grab your jacket because we’re heading out.”

“What?” he asked, giving me a blank look.

“I’m feeling cooped up in here,” I said, “and we’re going to need dinner anyway.” Then, just in case he was worried about it, I added, “And we won’t be driving this time.” Of course, I didn’t mention that I’d already left the car I’d ‘borrowed’ in a place where it would be found in a day or two.

Chris grumbled a little under his breath but didn’t look like he had the energy to actually argue with me. That was too bad, because getting him riled up might have been a nice distraction. In fact, I was tempted to do just that, though I shook it off. Maybe later.

I put my pendant back on but didn’t activate it. Since it was low on power and I didn’t want to waste it, I slipped on an older style disguise instead, one that wasn’t nearly as good, but which had worked well enough for me for years.

Chris watched curiously as I slipped on a long overcoat which helped to hide my tail, then went on the oversized sunglasses which covered up my slitted yellow eyes and the tiny black scales that covered my cheeks, forehead, and the bridge of my nose. And last but not least went the wide-brimmed hat, which helped to further hide my scales along with my horns and pointed ears.

This wasn’t a perfect disguise, but in New York, most people didn’t pay enough attention to random strangers on the street to notice my more eccentric features. In fact, this kind of disguise worked surprisingly well, even for some people with a little more extreme GSD.

“What about your illusion?” Chris asked.

“I’m saving the remaining power until I really need it,” I explained as I adjusted the brim of my hat. “This should work well enough for the moment.” I gave him a wry smile. “It’s how I used to get around before I had the pendant.”

After this, we left my condo and hit the streets. Chris followed without question as we took a short subway ride and then a brief walk. It didn’t take too long to reach our destination.

“What are we doing here?” Chris asked as he looked around the new condo building. “I thought we were going to get dinner.”

“We are,” I responded with a grin. “My boyfriend makes a pretty good lasagna, and he invited me over for New Years Eve dinner with him and his daughter. They won’t mind one more.”

Chris gave me a look of surprise, maybe over the fact that we were going to have a homemade meal for dinner instead of at a restaurant. After all, there was no way he could be surprised that someone as beautiful, talented, and fabulous as me had a boyfriend. If anything, he should be surprised that I didn’t have dozens of men throwing themselves at me.

“Are you sure?” Chris asked awkwardly.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” I assured him with a mischievous grin. “And I’m sure you’ll get along with his daughter just fine.”

I was still grinning as I rang the doorbell, and a few seconds later, Melissa opened the door. She took one look at me and immediately burst into a wide grin.

“IMP,” Melissa exclaimed, practically dragging me inside. “Dad said you have a new son, and that he’s my age, and that you might bring him over. Why didn’t you tell me? Can I meet him?”

“You’ve already met him,” I responded as I stepped aside and revealed Chris, who’d been right behind me.

Chris and Melissa stared at each other in surprise, though it took several seconds before a look of recognition passed over her face. “CHRIS?” she blurted out in confusion. “What happened to your hair?”

He self-consciously ran a hand over the stubble on his head before mumbling, “It seemed like a good idea at the time…” Then he gave her a curious look and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she answered with a roll of her eyes. “What are you…?” Then she paused to look at me, her mouth dropping open. “Are YOU Imp’s new kid?”

“Sorta,” he muttered awkwardly as he glanced at me.

“I gave him up for adoption when he was born,” I explained, deciding to cut things short. “A couple weeks ago, I figured out who he was. Then a few days ago, well…” I glanced at Chris, who was staring at the floor. “Well, something pretty bad happened and I took him in.”

Just then, Ryan stepped into view and looked Chris over. “I hope to hear the full story.”

I let out a long sigh at that, then gave a nod. Then, I removed my disguise and set my hat and coat aside before I went over to greet Ryan properly, with a hug, a kiss, and a goose of his butt cheek.

“Okay,” I said once we were done with the greeting. I looked to Chris and gestured at Ryan. “As you might have guessed, this is my boyfriend Ryan, who happens to be Melissa’s dad.” Then I looked at Ryan and gestured at Chris. “And this is Chris.”

“I think we met before,” Chris said awkwardly. “A couple months ago in Boston…”

Ryan gave Chris a curious look but nodded. “With that whole Adamant and Lamplighter situation.”

“Um, yeah,” Chris admitted self-consciously.

“I don’t think I would have recognized you,” Ryan said with a thoughtful look. “You look a bit different.”

“Yeah,” Chris muttered, self-consciously running a hand over his head again.

“But we also met yesterday,” Ryan added a few seconds later, chuckling at the look of confusion on Chris’ face.

Then Chris’ eyes went wide in realization, “You’re that Chickenhawk guy…”

Melissa burst out laughing at that while Ryan looked vaguely amused. “Actually, it’s Superhawk, but I can understand your confusion. Christine is notoriously bad at remembering people’s names.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Most people just have boring names. The ones I give them are more interesting.”

“But, you’re a hero,” Chris said, looking confused again. He looked at me and added, “I thought you said he was your archenemy…”

“He was,” I agreed with a grin. “Before I retired.”

“It took a few years,” Ryan added as he put an arm round my shoulders, “but I finally caught her.”

“C’mon,” Melissa said as she grabbed Chris’ arm and practically dragged him away. “I’ll show you my room…”

Once the two of them were gone, I dropped the grin and let out a sigh. Then I looked at Ryan and said, “I guess I have a lot to tell you…”

Manhattan NY, Monday later afternoon, Dec 31st 2007

Chris was still reeling a bit while Melissa pulled him into her bedroom.

“This is my room,” she proudly announced. “Or as I like to think of it…the Mischief Lair.”

With that, Chris blinked and looked around. It was a pretty normal looking bedroom, though a bit messy. And since Melissa had been away at Whateley for months, he suspected that most of this mess had come about in the last week or so since she’d been home.

Chris noted that there were a lot of stuffed animals spread around the room, with a good dozen of them being on the bed. On top of the dresser, he saw a pair of plastic devil horns, the kind that looked like they were part of a Halloween costume. However, there was one item in the room that stood out as being a bit out of place.

“That painting,” Chris said, gesturing to a painting that hung on the wall.

The painting was of a cat who was chasing a mouse while the mouse was blowing a raspberry back at the cat. It was whimsical and cartoonish, exactly what he would have expected to see in Melissa’s room, but at the same time, it looked like a really nice quality painting, not some cheap poster like he would have expected.

“It’s a Candice Kade original,” Melissa bragged. “She gave it to me on my last birthday…”

“Candice Kade?” Chris asked, now staring at the painting with new interest. He didn’t know much about art or painting, but it looked professional to him. “Imp painted this...?” Then realizing that he was giving away her real name, which she’d trusted him with, he quickly tried to cover it up, “I mean…”

“She told you?” Melissa asked in surprise. Then she gave Chris a thoughtful look. “Oh yeah, if she’s really your mom, then of course she’d tell you…”

Chris stared at Melissa for a moment before awkwardly nodding. “Yeah… She told me, but I didn’t know she could paint like this…”

Melissa giggled at that. “She’s an awesome artist…”

“I thought she was just an art thief,” he responded.

Melissa emphatically shook her head. “No way. Candice Kade is kind of famous as an artist… I mean, she does art shows, and they make puzzles based off some of her paintings...”

“Really?” Chris asked, a little surprised.

“Oh yeah,” Melissa assured him with a broad grin. “And she ALWAYS hides stuff in her paintings. She’s totally famous for it…”

With that, Melissa carefully pulled the painting off the wall and turned it sideways. It was only then that Chris noticed that some of the shadows and background formed new shapes, silhouettes that looked like a woman with horns standing beside a smaller girl who also had horns.

“Wow,” Chris said.

Melissa practically beamed as she explained, “This is a picture of when Imp and I met for the very first time…. And she painted this just for ME.”

Chris stared at the painting even more intently, feeling a bit impressed. It was no wonder that Melissa looked up to the Imp so much. And from this painting, it was obvious that his birth mother really cared about Melissa as well.

“So,” Melissa said after a few long seconds. “She really is your mom, isn’t she? I mean, I’m a little confused, because I thought you had other parents…”

“I only just found out the other day,” Chris admitted, still not sure of what to think about this revelation. He looked at Melissa, then quietly asked, “You know how I was adopted…?”

“Yeah,” she agreed as she sat down on the edge of her bed. “You mentioned that a couple times…”

“Well, a couple days ago,” he continued in a near whisper, choking a bit as the words didn’t want to come, “we were in a car accident and…”

Melissa listened with a look of growing horror and then sympathy, especially once Chris’ tears began to flow. And once Chris was done talking, she just grabbed him in a firm hug.

Manhattan NY, Monday evening, Dec 31st 2007

Everyone sat around the dinner table, enjoying Ryan’s lasagna and the salad he’d made to go with it. His sister Brandy had arrived right before dinner, so we were still in the process of explaining Chris’ presence.

“Chris is one of my friends at school,” Melissa told her aunt. “And we’re even on the same training team, but I didn’t know Imp was his mom until today.”

“I didn’t know until a couple days ago,” Chris responded.

I cheerfully added, “And I didn’t know until a couple weeks ago.”

Brandy looked back and forth between us before demanding of me, “How can you NOT know?”

“Apparently,” Ryan said as he decided to join the conversation. “Christine gave him up for adoption after he was born, and certain circumstances resulted in her discovering him again at Whateley.”

“Pretty much,” I agreed.

Chris squirmed a bit uncomfortably in his seat, obviously not wanting to talk about his current situation at the moment. He looked to Brandy and asked, “So, what do you do for a living?”

Brandy sort of puffed and preened a bit as she proudly answered, “I’m a superhero.”

“Really?” Chris asked, his eyes widening a bit. He looked back and forth between her and Ryan, clearly impressed by the fact that he was eating dinner with not one but two superheroes.

“Professionally,” Brandy explained, “I go by the name of Brandywine, and I’m with the Shielders over in Jersey.”

“She gets their equipment from Acme,” I mock whispered to Chris, earning a glare from Brandy in the process.

“Chris wants to be a hero too,” Melissa exclaimed while Chris slumped down self-consciously.

Ryan chuckled at that and told his sister, “The first time I met him, about two months ago in Boston, he was trying to take down Adamant…by himself.”

“Adamant?” Brandy blurted out in surprise. “It takes my whole team to even slow him down.”

“Chris has a lot of guts,” I admitted wryly. “Not always the most sense when it comes to picking opponents, but he definitely has the courage part down.”

Ryan snorted. “When I ran into them yesterday, Chris tried to protect Christine from me.”

“Just let me die,” Chris muttered as he slumped down even further into his chair.

“Hey,” Melissa protested as she jumped to Chris’ defense. “You should have seen him when we fought those Triangle jerks… He was totally protecting Darqueheart and everyone else…”

“The Triangle?” Brandy said, giving Chris a look of greater interest. “This I have to hear…” Then she paused and began smirking for a moment before she finally burst out laughing.

“What?” Chris asked, looking as though he was about to be offended.

Brandy just looked at me and mused, “YOU have a son who wants to be a superhero...”

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. “Trust me, I am well aware of the irony…”

Brandy burst out laughing again while Ryan chuckled as well. “Oh, this is rich,” she said before turning to Ryan. “Maybe we should give him a few lessons… It seems only fair.” Her eyes darted to Melissa while Chris sat up straighter, looking more interested.

The conversation continued, with Ryan and Brandy both promising to give Chris a few pointers. I was pretty sure that Brandy offered mostly to mess with me, though she probably thought that helping out one of Melissa’s friends was a nice bonus as well.

“Well, you could do worse than Chickenhawk,” I told Chris as I gave my approval.

“Thank you,” Chris told the two heroes. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Brandy gave me a look of annoyance, probably because I hadn’t included any praise for her. Ryan just looked amused.

“From you,” Ryan told me with a chuckle, “that is high praise indeed.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I teased him with a grin of my own.

After we finished eating, everyone migrated to the living room. Chris paused and just stood there, silently staring at a painting on the wall. It was one of my paintings, one that Ryan had bought from a gallery before we’d ever gotten together.

Brandy noticed the way Chris was looking at my painting and stepped up beside him. “I think that is by a local artist named Candice Kade,” she explained, looking to Ryan for confirmation. “She’s one of Ryan’s favorite artists.”

“She is,” Ryan agreed with an amused look.

“And I think Melissa has one of her paintings too,” Brandy added.

“It’s…interesting,” Chris said, giving me a curious look.

“Definitely,” I agreed with a nod. Melissa was trying to hold back a giggle.

“You know,” Brandy mused, looking at another painting which had recently been hung on another wall. “The style actually looks pretty similar to the one you gave Ryan for Christmas…” She was looking directly at me now.

“You think so?” I asked in a casual tone.

Brandy stood there for a moment with a thoughtful expression before blurting out, “Oh, I get it…”

“You do?” I asked in the same casual tone.

The heroine nodded at that and looked quite pleased with herself as she stated, “You copied her style when you painted that one….” She gestured to the Christmas present. “You knew Ryan liked her work, and you are an art forger after all.”

“Something like that,” I responded pleasantly, trying hard not to laugh.

Melissa stood back behind her hands clamped over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. That wasn’t very subtle, but Brandy wasn’t looking at her niece and didn’t see.

Manhattan NY, Monday evening, Dec 31st 2007

Chris stood on the outside balcony, chilled from the cold air but appreciating the chance to have a moment to himself. Dinner had been good, but the whole evening had been just a little overwhelming. Sure, there were only two people whom he didn’t know, and Melissa had been by his side almost the entire time, but still…

A minute later, the patio door opened and Ryan stepped out to join him. Melissa’s dad didn’t say a word as he leaned against the balcony railing and just looked out.

“It is a little much, isn’t it,” Ryan finally said, his voice low. “I can’t even imagine everything that you’re dealing with right now.”

Chris hesitated a moment before admitting, “Yeah… It’s all hard to wrap my head around everything… I mean, one day the Imp is my teacher, and the next, it turns out she’s my birth mother.” He shook his head at that.

“She can be a little much to deal with at times,” Ryan agreed. “And I can relate, at least a little. One day the Imp was my enemy, and the next…” He chuckled at that.

“How did that even happen?” Chris asked, giving Ryan a confused look. “I mean, you’re a hero and she’s…. Well…”

“She’s the Imp,” Ryan agreed with another chuckle. He was silent for a moment before saying, “Actually, it’s all due to Melissa…”

“Really?” Chris asked.

Ryan nodded, staring off into the distance as he explained, “The Imp and I were enemies for many years…and we fought quite a few times. Well, if you can really call it fighting when she’d just mock me, then run off and slip away as though it was the easiest thing in the world…” He shook his head and admitted, “Every single time I ran into her, it ended in immense frustration for me, but at the same time, I looked forward to encountering her again. Each time I ran into her, it was the highpoint of my day.”

Chris gave him a blank look. “I get the frustrating part… I’ve fought her in training…” He shuddered at the memory.

“I spent years trying to catch her,” Ryan continued after Chris a nod of acknowledgement, “and the only reason I finally caught her was because she let me.”

“You said it was because of Melissa?” Chris said.

“Yes,” Ryan agreed with a faint smile. “Unknown to me at the time, she was sneaking out and befriending the Imp. After all those years, my daughter did the one thing I was never able to…track down the Imp.”

Chris burst out laughing at that. “Imp said Melissa is a trouble magnet…” Then he paused before admitting, “Well, she said we ALL were.”

“You have no idea,” Ryan muttered before his expression turned grim. “One day, Melissa got herself kidnapped by a supervillain, and that was the day the Imp dropped her mask for me.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked.

Ryan let out a sigh. “She offered to help me save Melissa…and to prove that she was serious…to convince me to let her help…she let me see behind the curtain. She revealed some of her most important secrets, the ones that had helped her to escape me time after time. She effectively ended her own supervillain career just to earn my trust.”

“Really?” Chris asked in surprise.

Melissa’s dad merely nodded at that before he continued. “While we worked together, I saw more of the woman behind the mask. I learned that she wasn’t just the impulsive and reckless prankster that I thought. She was kind, and clever, and passionate about art in a way that I’d never realized.” He shook his head. “Before we were done, I’d started to fall for her.”

“But she hates superheroes,” Chris pointed out uncertainly. “Doesn’t she?”

“Well, she does mock just about every hero she meets,” Ryan admitted. “And most villains too. In fact, I think the only hero that I’ve ever heard her talking to or about without mocking them… was Doctor Miracle.”

“Doctor Miracle,” Chris mused, trying to remember what he’d heard about the hero. He remembered that Doctor Miracle was one of those old school heroes, one who hadn’t been active in a long time. However, he didn’t really know much more about him than his name.

“Christine doesn’t really hate superheroes,” Ryan told Chris, looking him in the eyes. “The truth is, I think that she just has high standards for what she considers to be a real superhero, and most heroes don’t meet her standards. I think… she considers those heroes to be fakes or impostors, which is part of the reason she mocks them so hard.”

“What about you?” Chris asked, a little surprised by Ryan’s words. “Do you meet her standards?”

The older man hesitated for a moment before admitting, “I haven’t always, but I like to think that I do now. At least, I’m always trying to be a better hero than I used to be.” He shook his head and admitted, “My perspective on things has changed since I saw behind her mask.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked.

Ryan stared out into the distance again before explaining, “I used to think that heroes were the good guys and villains were the bad guys. Most of the time, that is true, but not always. That was before I met a so-called hero who liked to kidnap children and brainwash them into being his puppets. That was before I met a villainess who risked her life to save an innocent girl.” He turned to Chris and gave him a wry smile. “I learned that things aren’t always that black and white… and that you need to judge someone by their actions, not whatever title people call them by.”

Chris didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he stared off into the distance as he thought over what Ryan had told him. That sounded a lot like some of the things that the Imp had told him in the past…and some of the things that he’d seen for himself. He had definitely met some heroes who hardly deserved to be called that.

“You know,” Ryan mused aloud. “Christine would deny it if I ever suggested this in her hearing… In fact, she’d probably even be offended. But the truth is, I think that if things had been just a little different for her…that she could have become a hero herself.”

That made Chris snort. “Yeah, she’d definitely be offended by that.”

They both chuckled, then just stood in silence for another minute. Chris’ mind was still occupied with what Ryan had told him.

“Christine told me why she gave you up,” Ryan finally said, his voice once again low and gentle. “And it sounds like she had some very good reasons for doing so… But in spite of that, I know she’s regretted it ever since…”

“Sure,” Chris responded with a skeptical snort.

Ryan let out a sigh. “I don’t know all the details, but I get the feeling that this is a weight that she’s been carrying for a long time. And when she got the call that you were in trouble…that you needed help…” He turned and looked Chris in the eyes again. “She was in tears… That woman, the professional thief and supervillain…was crying over worry for you.”

Chris stared at Ryan, unable to even imagine the Imp crying, much less over him. The very idea that she might be crying over him was unbelievable, yet it hit him almost like a physical blow.

“Christine is a complicated woman,” Ryan told Chris, putting a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “And I think that for most of her life, she has been a very lonely one. She might not tell you this, but she’s terrified that you’re going to reject her.”

“But,” Chris started in a whisper, unsure of what to say to that, or even what to think about it.

Ryan gave Chris a reassuring smile and turned to head back inside, though he paused at the door to look back at Chris. “Please, give her a chance…” A moment later, Chris was left alone on the balcony with his thoughts.

Manhattan NY, Wednesday afternoon, Jan 2^nd 2008

I leapt from one rooftop to the next, grinning broadly as I did so. At that moment, I was in my costume, out stretching my legs a bit, and getting some fresh air.

“Too bad I can’t do this kind of thing at Whateley,” I mused aloud.

Unfortunately, Whateley wasn’t built for this kind of a run, in spite of everything the Parkour Hooligans did to keep their runs exciting. For one, the buildings were too far apart to really jump between, and for another, they were too short, at least compared to many of the buildings I was used to in Manhattan.

As I continued with my bit of exercise, I thought about Chris, who was currently off with Melissa. The two of them were spending the afternoon together, doing a bit of shopping to replace a few things that Chris lost during all the chaos. And later on, Ryan said that he’d give Chris a bit of a lesson about being a superhero.

I was amused by the idea of my son and boyfriend spending time together. Hell, I was amazed by the very idea that I had either a son or a boyfriend. Not too long ago, having either of those things in my life seemed an impossible dream, so the fact that I now had BOTH…

Just then, I spotted something on the street below that brought me to a complete stop. I crouched down and peered down over the edge of the building to get a better look, only to confirm what I was seeing.

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s aunt,” I exclaimed in surprise.

My thoughts immediately went to Monkeywrench and how he’d probably get a kick out of that expression. And while I knew that he wasn’t Danny Boy’s kid, I couldn’t help but imagine how entertaining things would be if he had actually been my nephew. That would certainly have made Shenanigans an even more interesting team.

Down on the street below, there was a man in a blue and white costume. Another one. It seemed that I kept running into people in blue and white costumes lately. He wore a grey metal helmet with large ram horns that curved and spiraled around from the side. I knew that costume, or at least that helmet, though it had been a few years since I’d last seen it.

“Ram the third,” I loudly exclaimed as I dropped down over the edge of the building, catching myself on a ledge about halfway down and then clinging to it.

The young hero, who I assumed was calling himself the Ram since he was wearing the same magic helmet that had been worn by the previous Rams, looked around in surprise before finally looking up. Once he saw me, his entire posture shifted, and he glared up at me.

“The third and latest entry in the Ram trilogy,” I commented with a smirk, thinking that this was a great opportunity to amuse myself. But then I paused, suddenly wondering if that was really the direction I wanted to go when there was an even greater opportunity to be had.

“I know who you are,” the Ram exclaimed, pointing right at me. “You must be the Imp. I’ve heard about you from my predecessors.”

“I know who you are too, Martin,” I said, keeping my voice low enough so that it didn’t carry far.

The Ram froze and let out a gasp of surprise at the use of his real name. “How…?”

“I found out your grandfather’s identity a few decades ago,” I answered, keeping my tone conversational rather than mocking. “I know all about your family, including your dad, who wore that helmet before you.” Then, before he could give the usual threats, I held up a hand and assured him, “I’ve never shared that secret or used it against your predecessors before, and I have absolutely no intention of doing so now. I just wanted to get your attention.”

“And you have it,” the Ram responded, looking like he was ready to try attacking me, which was one of the reasons that I was remaining out of his reach. “And you are going to regret that when I take you in.”

I laughed at that, more than a little tempted to take the bait and start mocking him. This was an old game, one that I’d played with countless heroes before, including his father and grandfather. However, this time I held myself back.

“Take me in for what?” I asked him, allowing a little of my amusement to show, though not too much of it. “I’m not committing any crimes and there are currently no warrants out for me. If you attack me now, it’s without cause…which would make it assault with a superpower. And I may be wrong, I believe that is classified as a crime.”

The young hero froze at that and glared at me, clearly trying to think of a good response. However, the fact that he was thinking rather than attacking first was actually a good sign.

“You know,” I mused aloud. “That actually wouldn’t have stopped your grandfather…”

“You don’t know anything about my grandpa,” the Ram snarled in response.

I looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. “I ran into him about a dozen times over the years,” I pointed out in an almost cheerful tone. “But did you know that the very first time I met your grandpa…I wasn’t a supervillain. Hell, I wasn’t even a criminal back then. The first time I met him, I was just a homeless teenager who was panhandling for a little change so I could get something to eat.”

“What?” the Ram asked in surprise and a bit of confusion. He had probably been expecting my usual routine of mockery and escape, and the fact that I wasn’t following my normal script was throwing him off. “What are you talking about?”

“The first time your grandfather saw me,” I continued, still keeping my tone conversational, “he saw these…” I tapped my horns and gave him a wry grin, “and decided that I just HAD to be some kind of evil monster…and he attacked me. There was no real reason for it, besides the way I looked.”

“You’re making that up to smear his legacy,” the Ram accused, but the hitch in his voice and the slight hesitation let me know that he didn’t quite believe that himself.

“I ran away from him,” I said. “I mean, I was a teenage girl who was being chased by a superhero…so of course I ran. And you know who saved me from your grandfather?” I gave a dramatic pause before answering my own question. “It was a professional thief who took pity on me. He took me in, gave me my name, and even taught me my trade. In fact, if it hadn’t been for your grandfather attacking a poor kid, I never would have become the Imp much less a supervillain.” Then I gave the Ram an evil grin and added, “The next time you see your grandpa, tell him ‘thank you’ for me, because I owe my entire supervillain career to him.”

The Ram gave me a look of shock and horror, though he quickly snapped back and exclaimed, “My grandfather was a hero…”

I responded with a loud dismissive snort. “Hardly. Your grandfather was a cheap thug who liked to beat up people, and to make himself feel good about it and actually get praised for his actions, he called himself a superhero.”

This time, the Ram looked almost like I’d physically slapped him. He snarled, shifting into a more aggressive stance again, though he was far enough away that I didn’t have any fear of him attacking me, at least not effectively.

“Then there was your father,” I said, shifting the focus of our conversation just a little. “He might not have been the Ram for long, less than a year, and he didn’t actually accomplish much…but he was still a better hero than your grandfather.”

“What?” the Ram blurted out, seemingly surprised by those words. Probably because his dad had never lived up to his grandfather’s expectations.

“He quit being a hero to focus on his family,” I explained. “He knew what was important and he acted on it. I have to respect that.”

“What are you playing at?” the young hero demanded, once again looking confused by my comments. “What’s your game?”

I stared at the Ram for a moment, knowing that he wasn’t much older than Chris. This rookie hero was barely old enough to vote, which was one of the main reasons I was taking a different tactic with him than I normally would have.

“No game,” I answered honestly. “Not this time.”

“Then why are you doing this?” he asked. “I’ve heard stories about you, but I’ve never heard about you talking like this…”

“You can think of it as a New Years resolution,” I explained with a shrug. “Or maybe, I just want to try something different for once.”

“And why am I the lucky one?” he asked sarcastically.

“Because I’m curious,” I told him in a pleasant tone. “I wanted to see what kind of a hero you’re going to become. Are you going to follow your grandfather’s path? Your father’s? Or are you going to make your own.”

“Come on down here,” the young hero said, more as if going through the motions than as if he was truly challenging me. “I’ll show you what kind of a hero I am.”

“What kind of a hero are you going to be,” I mused aloud, straightening up on the ledge as I did so. “Do you just want to call yourself a superhero, or do you want to really be one?” Then, I popped a smoke bomb and covered myself with the smoke, activating my chameleon field as I did so and vanishing from view.

Once the smoke cleared, the Ram looked around but didn’t see me. “Where did you go?” he demanded, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I remained where I was, hidden from view and silently watching him until he eventually wandered away.

This whole encounter had been an unexpected opportunity, one that I never would have recognized if it hadn’t been for my experience teaching at Whatley. This had been an opportunity to teach a valuable lesson, to influence a rookie hero so that he might not repeat the mistakes of his predecessors. But whether that actually worked or not…

“I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see,” I mused aloud as I began heading for home.

Manhattan NY, Friday late morning, Jan 4th 2008

“That should do it,” I said as I looked over my bags, which I’d just finished packing for my trip back to Whateley.

Classes started again on Monday, and as a teacher, I had to get back a couple days early so that I could get everything set up in time. Unfortunately, that meant that my winter break was cut a little short, and by extension, so was Chris’.

“Are you about ready?” I asked Chris.

“Yeah,” Chris responded, gesturing to his bags which were already packed and waiting by the door. He had more things now than when he’d arrived, thanks in large part to his shopping trip with Melissa. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” I said with a nod. “We’ll have lunch with Ryan and Melissa, then we’ll head back to the school.”

Chris perked up slightly. “Is Melissa traveling with us?”

“Yep,” I answered with a chuckle. He seemed relieved at that, maybe because it meant that he wouldn’t be traveling with only me again. Our last trip hadn’t been exactly smooth. “We’ll be getting back to Whately this evening.”

Chris stared down at his bags, then let out a sigh. “Going back to school is going to be so weird after everything…” He shook his head at that. “Everything has changed.”

“Well, Chris,” I told him with a wry smile, “About the school… I’m afraid that I have some good news and bad news for you.”

He gave me a worried look. “What is it?”

“The good news is that you are now eligible for membership in an exclusive campus club,” I said with a chuckle. “The bad news is that it’s the Bad Seeds."

Chris groaned at that. “I’ll never live that down…”

I nodded my agreement, knowing exactly what he meant. Earlier in the year, he’d been rather vocal about his opinion on villains…and on the children of villains being villains themselves. He’d earned some hard feelings among that club, and among a number of other students who’d jump on the chance to mess with him.

“You don’t have to tell anyone that you’re related to me,” I assured him, knowing that it would probably be even worse for him if word got out that he was a teacher’s kid…much less MY kid. “I’ll keep it quiet on my end, at least as much as possible. There are few people in admin and security who know about our relationship now, but they aren’t the types to be spreading that around either.”

“Okay,” he muttered, looking relieved.

“Now, I’m thinking pizza for lunch,” I announced, deciding that we needed a change of topic to something a little less serious. “It’s going to be awhile before you get real New York pizza again, so it seems like a good sendoff lunch.”

Chris merely nodded, though he stood there with a distant expression, as though he was lost in thought. Then, just when I thought he wasn’t going to respond at all, he abruptly asked, “Why did you give me up?”

I froze at the question, even though I knew it was bound to come up sooner or later. We’d talked about it before, but only in vague details. At the time, Chris had been so shocked to learn that I was his mother that he hadn’t really wanted to know much more.

My first impulse was to respond with some snappy banter, a bit of a joke to lighten the mood and maybe even distract him away from that topic. However, he deserved an answer to that particular question.

For several long seconds, I just stood there in silence, unsure of what to say or how I could explain things. But then, I began to speak, almost before I’d even realized that I was doing so.

“You know what I did for my old career,” I said quietly.

Chris stared at me, nodding as he did so. “You… You probably didn’t want a kid getting in the way.”

“I was going to quit,” I told him with a sigh. “When I found out I was pregnant, I stopped pulling jobs. I figured, I had enough money saved up to last a couple years, so I could lay low and live a quiet life with you…”

“Then, what changed?” Chris asked, looking uncertain.

“I… I received a very painful reminder that things didn’t work like that for people like me,” I answered with a wince at the memory. My voice cracked a little as I explained, “I had too many enemies, people who wouldn’t let me just retire and disappear. At that time, I had a price on my head, so there were hitmen actively hunting me down…”

I didn’t mention Barney and the key role that he’d played in this decision. I didn’t want to burden Chris with that specific bit of information.

My eyes were tearing up, but I was definitely not crying. Nope, not at all. Not a single tear ran down my cheek, so I didn’t wipe them away with my sleeve.

“All that I could think of, was that you were going to be killed,” I explained in a whisper, unable to look at Chris as I spoke. “Or orphaned. Even with the best outcome, there was no way I could give you any kind of safe and secure childhood. So, I gave you to someone who could. I gave you to the one person I trusted to be the mother that I couldn’t be.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes again, though I didn’t say anything else. It had been hard enough just getting that much out to him. It was one thing to be witty and eloquent in a fight, or to someone I was mocking, and quite another to even say two words in a situation like this.

There was an awkward silence before Chris abruptly gave me an even more awkward hug. I hesitated a moment before hugging him back, experiencing something that I’d thought I’d lost forever…the chance to actually hold my own baby.

Once Chris pulled away, he self-consciously muttered, “I’m not going to call you mom.”

“I don’t expect you to,” I told him with a weak smile. “You already had someone who earned that title, and probably a lot better than I ever could have.”

“She was a good mom,” Chris stated sadly. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Thank you for giving her to me.”

I smiled faintly at that, grateful for Suzie Q yet jealous of her at the same time. “You’re welcome.”

Then, as we began to grab out baggage, trying to act as though nothing had just happened, Chris turned and gave me an odd look before quietly saying, “You know, I think you would have done a good job too.”

The End