Note: This short story technically takes place AFTER the events of book seven, but has no major spoilers for it so I am publishing it now, here. The first line would definitely be a spoiler for book six, however. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Morgan Laura Sagan née Olsen (former homicide cop, private detective) and her lovely wife (in my opinion), Jessica Sagan are both at ComicCon with me. Jessica who in her Vampire life has had so many other names the née would have to be an appendix.
Morgan, for all her experience in life as a Cop and Detective, has never been to a ComicCon. Jessica and I, of course, have been with great frequency, both before and after we were married.
Morgan, despite being like me in many ways, to the point where we communicate almost silently sometimes, is not a comic book fan. Her life is fact-based, and the fantasy elements of Comics do not appeal to her.
Jessica is on a mission to change Morgan’s stance on Comics and superheroes.
I support this effort.
Jessica dressed Morgan up (despite her protests) in one of the finest Supergirl costumes I have ever seen. Professionally made and fitted, including the wig. This is a hybrid of 1980’s Supergirl, with the belled sleeves, the ‘S’ emblem on the left breast, but with the hot pants replaced by the 1984 movie skirt. The TV show thigh-high boots were used. The blonde wig is ‘Rebirth’ style and length.
It is cool. If I did not know who Morgan is in this costume, and did not have hyper senses (Morgan still smells like Morgan, and that is a good thing), I would not recognize her.
Jessica is of course, Wonder Woman. Amazon Armor that looked like it might be bulletproof, other than it left her upper arms and legs in the open. She was Xena last year. Jessica rocked that hard too.
I am Green Arrow this time around. I would have shaved off my beard to be Flash but was told in no uncertain terms by both Morgan and Jessica that is NOT an option. I could be a bearded Flash if I want. That was not going to work for me. For one thing, the Flash cowl has a chin in most versions, and that sucks with a beard.
As a Vampire, no matter how much time I spend on weights, I am too thin to be any recent version of Batman, which is who I would want to be of course. I could be Batman from the 1960’s TV show I suppose, but as much as I like that show and Batman comic related to it, that is not my Batman.
The Arrow costume is good because Jessica would not settle for anything less. She even sprayed my beard yellow/blonde to get the comic book vibe going. The green semi-padded jacket covered for the fact I am not apparently muscle-bound. ‘Apparently’ being key. Being Vampire means I could pick up the nearly three hundred pounds of super-bulky-but-human-muscled-Batman I just passed and toss him around like a cat toy.
That would not be cool: I am a peace-loving Vampire-turned-Oliver-Queen.
The three of us stopped for a lot of pictures. Most of the cameras, when aimed by horny nerds, somehow panned to Supergirl-Morgan and Wonder-Woman-Jessica. I understood it: it’s what I would do.
We stopped at a booth with an excellent collection of graphic novels, and Jessica is holding a Hal Jordon Green Lantern, and explaining the ‘Parallax’ storyline to Morgan, who is asking questions like: “So, he is a fearless pilot and had been a hero for decades, and some writer decided to completely throw that out the window and have him kill all the other Green Lanterns, and steal all their power rings? Superhero turned serial killer?”
Jessica replied in aggrieved tones: “Exactly. Pissed us GL fans off royally. Like screaming fits pissed off. DC finally figured out we hated that storyline with a deep, dark, and sincere hatred, and they RetConned the whole thing.”
“RetConned?” Morgan asked. God, total newbie. So innocent.
“Retroactive Continuity. Add in new things to make the old thing not suck as much. In this case, it turned out Hal was possessed.”
“That is deeply confusing.” Morgan said. “Why do that to your readers? It seems like they are not keeping faith with you as a fan.”
I smiled to myself, as I flipped through the T-Shirts to see if there is anything I cannot live without. The green Domino mask I am wearing has wide eyeholes, so it is easy to see out of, but the gloves make it hard to pick up things. Flipping through T-Shirts is not a problem though. I envied Morgan and Jessica their costumes in that regard. I think I will make a new shirt, using pictures of Morgan and Jessica in costume rather than buy these.
We wandered down the line and a booth of leather costumes and replica weapons caught Morgan’s eye next. There are little racks of accessories. Purses. Belt pouches. Belts of all kinds. The thing that caught Morgan’s eye is a rack of shackles, including pink furry ones.
Morgan asked Jessica “Are you aware that in ancient England they used pink furry handcuffs in their dungeons?” Morgan showed them to Jessica, who took them and examined them seriously.
“I will have to ask Helen about this. She never said. These are not bad quality though.” Jessica commented as she studied them.
Morgan took them back, looked them over. “Yes. Not too bad.” She held them up to Jessica. “You ever use such a thing recreationally, since I assume that is what the pink furr is meant to imply about their intended usage?”
Jessica leaned in “Sure. You know me. I am a try anything once kind of person. Back in the 1920s, I did because Helen was feeling experimental. We’d been to a swingers club, saw some people doing light bondage, and she asked if I wanted to try it. Not there. Later.”
Morgan hung the cuffs back on the pegged rack, and started to walk away, asking “And how was that for you?”
“Interesting? Some? I never repeated it. Being cuffed made me nervous, and I couldn’t let go and enjoy Helen’s efforts. She finally took them off me because I was not responding the way she wanted me to.”
“You able to respond after the bindings were off?” Morgan asked.
Jessica nodded. “It took a while to relax afterward but yes.”
“Is it odd to you that with all the time you have been having sex that you are not bored with the more normal versions of the sex acts? I use the term ‘normal’ in that sentence under some advisement of course. I ask because Adrian and I were talking about baseball terms once and he asserted and I agreed that neither of us was interested in some common sexual activities such as playing “Pitcher” or “Catcher” or “being pegged”. Any of those types of activities. Adrian and I are each very young, in Vampire terms. This might be pre-judgment.” Morgan admitted the last sounding dubious that her age is really going to change her opinion anytime soon.
Jessica assented to that evaluation. “Oh, me either, Morgan dear. As I said: I’ll try anything once. More if I like it or thought maybe it would be better done differently or with a different person. I tried being on the receiving end once and only once. I totally hated it. Being ‘catcher’ is of course normally a gay male term, but I don’t see why. If a man is performing that act upon me, or to another man, it’s kind of the same thing as far as I can tell.”
“Well, you are missing a prostate gland, and that is supposed to be the extra attraction of that to men.” Morgan noted. She added “In the past I had various lovers actually beg me to let them do that particular act with me, though in my mind it was more of a ‘to me’ that ‘with me’. In fact, One man tried without asking.”
“How long were they in the hospital?” I asked
That got a smile. “I did not put him in the hospital. I did very literally kick his worthless ass out of bed and make him leave and that was the first, last, and only time we had sex and I was sorry for that time.” Morgan answered. “He was persistent. Kept calling. Flowers. All that.”
“I am, knowing you, wondering how you ended up having sex with someone like that.” Jessica commented.
“One of those ‘try anything once’ type of things, somewhat as you mentioned. I had mixed feelings about it, with that little voice in my head saying it was a mistake, but all the external indicators pointed to him being a decent sort. I learned to listen to that inner voice. My subconscious mind saw things that my conscious mind did not. In a similar vein, I dated a bartender from a strip club, and all the external factors would have argued against him, but my subconscious mind said he was a decent sort, and he was. Live and learn.” Morgan did the open hand, ‘what can you do?’ gesture.
“I do not understand the fascination with that particular act.” I told them. “I only have two data points. One is Vera, and her desire for me to treat her more roughly than I was willing to. As you both know, she never ASKED for that, only hinted, and I missed all of it. The other is a woman that I knew from a long time ago. She told me she liked back door love. She said that even in women there are nerves that cause pleasure in that area. I honestly have no idea what to think about that statement. In neither case was I an adequate lover since I said ‘Hell no’. Even if it IS pleasurable to women, and I am not saying that it is not, I cannot see wanting to. Why they invented vibrators I suppose.”
Jessica looked at me thoughtfully “You have made me think that if I ever do either of those things, bondage or backdoor, again, that they require deep trust to convert them into something else. Something better than what they are.” Jessica gave me a significant look. “Meaning I might like it if it was you.”
“You want to try the pink handcuffs with me, better wait a bit. I am not there yet.” I said very flatly.
“No. No. Still, you should think about it. Someday. Maybe. If we ever want to try a new thing. I mean you doing me, or Morgan and I together, not us doing you. I can’t imagine you will ever be ready for that. Like on Morgan’s wedding night. We never did find any silk cords. You just told me what you would do, and I liked the idea.”
“The most violated I ever felt before the HPA is when a doctor was checking my prostate. I decided after reading the stats on prostate cancer that I was never going to allow that particular invasion again. Then the HPA happened.” I said, quietly. “Don’t hold your breath on anything but the fluffy cuffs. You initiate and you tell me you absolutely want to try it again, and you want it to be me…”
Morgan said very seriously “Fluffy cuffs, Maybe? Other things? I will never initiate that. I have no interest. As we have discussed before, I would not do that to you.”
Jessica shook her head ‘no’, but said: “Never say never. Remember that we could be talking about it in one hundred or even one thousand years from now.”
We had been talking as we walked, and moved past the booths to Artist Alley.
When we arrived at the back row, Morgan noticed tables with the booths marked ’18+’ on the outside. Most of the posted art is of women in various comic books like Wonder Woman, Power Girl, Rogue, Sheena, Red Sonja, and similar. All have the same proportions of the chrome silhouette ladies you see on eighteen-wheeler truck flaps.
Morgan flipped open one of the adults-only books, and it is as one might expect: Naked versions of the same pictures that are posted on the walls. Other pictures in different poses. All with extravagant and unlikely figures.
The artist stood from his chair where he is drawing something to come behind the table we are at. “I mostly work with one model. I change the backgrounds, costume, hair colors, to make her be all the different heroes. That is why all the faces are about the same because they are the same woman. However, I would very much like to draw you two. Your costumes are amazing. Outstanding.”
He indicated Jessica. “You are the best Wonder Woman I have ever seen, and I have been doing these con’s forever.” He then turned to Morgan. “And you, miss! Your Supergirl is the coolest mix of the various costumes I have seen as well. The modern, and the 80’s. Nice.”
“My wife had it made.” Morgan said absently as she continued flipping pages.
The Artist risked a glance at Jessica to see if she might be the wife in question. Jessica was paying no attention to him as she is scanning pictures.
Morgan looked up from a picture of a partially disrobed Red Sonja, spattered with blood, driving a sword through a man on the ground. “Is this you? The man this character is killing? You are your own model?”
‘This character’. Morgan has no idea who Red Sonja is. So cute!
The artist laughed. “Pretty much.”
Jessica compared the face of the artist to the drawing. “Looks like him. Except for the fear part. I suppose for these drawings you would like to do of us that you would not mind if we were also partially naked? Like Red Sonja here?”
He raised his hand “Oh, no. Not making a pass. You two are just awesome. This is the stuff that sells to all the nerd boys. Here. Look at the ones in this book.”
The artist pulled a book out from the back of the booth. It was more varied in style and content. The nudes more tasteful, the proportions more realistic, the settings things like boats and sunsets. In a word, they are far more ‘romantic’. “This is the stuff I draw for me.”
Jessica studied a few, pointed at a recumbent nude on a beach. “I like this one. You do commissions?” She asked.
“Of course. Everyone here does them.” The artist affirmed. “Well: most of us. Some of the big names maybe not.”
“You from Austin?” Jessica asked next.
“San Antonio” he answered
“Close enough. I may want to commission you for a one of a kind drawing. Me, naked, sitting on a rock at Hippy Hollow, on Lake Travis. For my husband, the quiet Green Arrow over there. To hang in our houseboat. It is where we met. May I have your card, please?”
We left behind an artist whose skin exuded serious human levels of sexual interest scents. I am pretty sure that the second book is part of a practiced seduction technique. The tats that covered his arms are mostly of naked women and skulls and such. Not his work, obviously, but still the subject matter sort of said to me he thought of women more at the level of the first book than the second. Sex objects.
As we walked away, Morgan asked Jessica “Are you serious? About posing nude for him?”
“Consider Morgan: Adrian, seeing a well done nude of me, hanging on the wall, as we putter around the lake on the Nightwing? That one is well-drawn, unlike most of the grosser things he has also done. What do you think this picture will do to Adrian’s libido?”
“Like that needs amplification, especially when upon the Nightwing, but in answer to my question: yes, you are serious.” Morgan said thoughtfully.
“You want to do one too?” Jessica asked, curiously.
Morgan looked over at me. Pursed her lips. “Well, Jessica: I do not like the idea of being objectified. Most of that man’s paintings are the very worst kind of female objectification. What you are doing is different. You are trying to get behind one particular man’s eyes and it is based upon your already existing relationship. However, I should point out that I can draw and realistically. Perhaps I shall do a self-portrait. Or, if the goal is sexual stimulation, maybe I will draw a picture of you laying recumbent, naked, with me kissing you.”
Jessica can draw too. A talent they both have, and both draw in a school of realism.
Jessica’s eyes danced “I forgot that picture you drew of Tommy for the crime scene. That was excellent. OK. I’ll commission you. I’d rather be posing naked for you anyway. Maybe I can get behind YOUR eyes a little.”
“What are your thoughts on this, Adrian?” Morgan asked me.
“Well, Morgan, I admit that if the goal is to get behind my eyes, you already did.” I told her very sincerely. “I am glad we brought the Pilot with us today. Tinted windows, back seat, and all.”
“See, Jessica? He needs no extra stimulation.” Morgan pointed out. “Dibs on the back seat.”
“You have to share, Supergirl!” Jessica said firmly. “Room for three back there.”
We started up an aisle back to the booth area. “I do not believe it is canon for Green Arrow to have sex with Supergirl or Wonder Woman. Threesomes in comics are unheard off.” Jessica pointed out.
“No, but Arrow has, in several reboots, screwed up his relationship and/or marriage with Black Canary by cheating on her, so I think we can say he is well established as a serial philanderer.” I pointed out.
“You make a good point.” Jessica ceded. “Arrow IS probably a secret Poly in his unwritten backstory. No: That is wrong. Arrow hides his sexual interactions until he is discovered. So, not a Poly. Just a jerk.”
As we wandered out of the Artist’s Alley and back into the sales area, we went past a booth specializing in Star Wars. Morgan picked up a large art glass paperweight and looked it over. Inside it is a laser etching of the Star Wars Death Star. “You think Danny would like this?”
“Danny would love that. It would also piss off Lori, who thinks he has too much stuff in his office already, but so what? It’s his office.” I said with confidence. Danny is a Star Wars nut. “Also, I know he does not have that.” I added.
Morgan bought it and tucked it into a recyclable plastic bag she brought for swag. It also has a poster from the Supergirl movie, with Helen Slater as Supergirl.
We stopped at the celebrity autograph area, standing back a distance. Morgan read the names aloud and commented about knowing someone here or there from something non-genre.
“Who is that?” Morgan asked and pointed.
Jessica and I exchanged a glance that screamed “Newbie.”
“Huge genre actress. She played Lois Lane on TV. You never heard of her?” Jessica asked.
“No. However I am asking not because of her in particular but because of that young man.” Morgan subtly indicated a man, dressed in jeans and a solid red jacket with a blue shirt. The world’s cheapest ‘Clark Kent’ costume.
“Look at him in Infrared.” Morgan instructed.
Under the red jacket, in his belt, is a revolver. A snub nose thirty-eight at a guess.
“We went through metal detectors. It is clearly posted that no weapons are allowed in this show regardless of Texas carry laws. The signs are all correctly posted as per the ordinance. After we were scanned for metal, security checked your quiver to be sure that the arrows you have are non-lethal. How did he get that gun into this area?” Morgan asked. Morgan is dressed like Supergirl and is even using vision powers, but she is in full Morgan, Cop-and-Detective mode.
“This actress whose picture is on the sign will come here to sign autographs. Correct?” Morgan asked.
Jessica pointed at a table. “Yes. You buy a picture there. Stand in line. When it is your turn, you get a minute or so to meet her and have her sign the picture. There are security people controlling the line.”
Morgan rubbed her chin in thought. “This is all wrong.”
As she said earlier: Morgan has learned to trust her subconscious, and this guy set off her alarms bells. “I do not like this man’s body language. I do not like the way he keeps looking at that large picture of her on the backdrop. He should not have a gun.”
Morgan surveyed the scene. “This autograph booth is on the end of that line of booths, and we can post ourselves in that aisle when he gets in line. Look like we are stopping to chat. If he even starts to pull that gun on her, we need to be ready to act quickly.”
Jessica pointed at another sign. “She comes on in less than ten minutes, according to that schedule. You two stay here and keep an eye on him. I’ll be right back.”
Jessica zoomed off at high human speed.
When the actress / apparent target of the man with the gun arrived at the booth bearing her name and picture, she was with another person. I presume someone to protect her, and to keep her from being mobbed.
A line already formed and is waiting, and the young man is in the eighth position. Morgan is visually fixed on him and I could somehow feel her poised to spring.
‘Lois Lane’ started to sign her pictures and chat with a big smile to each person. By the time he arrived into the fourth slot, Jessica arrived back with a small bag. The three of us moved to be in the traffic aisle and closer to the booth, and we formed up to look like we are consulting each other but in a half-circle open to the booth so we could really be watching the man with the gun. We stood only three meters from where ‘Lois’ is signing, and the only thing between us and her are velvet crowd control ropes.
We chatted, and I held up the show schedule, and we each pointed at it. The guard at the line looked at us with suspicion. Good on him. He is not going to leave his position for a conversation with us though. I did not see him radio a call into security either. We are not too suspicious, only worth keeping one eye upon.
The guy we are watching turn is now coming next, and I am in agreement with Morgans assessment of him. I did not like anything about this kid. He looked nervous and he reached partway to his back like he is making sure the jacket is not in the way of his ability to draw the weapon. The gun that should NOT be there, not even in Texas. Our suspect is holding the picture of from the TV show of ‘Lois Lane’ so hard it is getting wrinkled.
When it went down, it happened fast. I went into hypertime and I am pretty sure Morgan is there as well. I needed to be able to react and try to get to ‘Lois’ fast enough. Six meters is a lot of space when you are racing a gun. If I displayed the kind of speed to overcome that, we are going to have a different problem, but we are as close as we can get.
The kid set the wrinkled picture on the counter, and as she reached to sign it, she looked surprised at its mangled state. ‘Lois’ is paying attention to the picture, not the kid. His hand started to reach back for his gun, and it is now a dead certainty that he planned to kill her. Or himself in front of her. Less likely but possible.
I turned to bolt that way, but Jessica suddenly held my collar. I pulled, choked, pulled. I could not get free of Jessica’s far superior strength.
The gun is coming around and headed up. I saw the guard for the line snapping to what is happening but he is too far away and too late.
I am now too. I dropped to real-time to verbally tear Jessica a new asshole.
Then, like magic, the kid went keeling over, toward the guard as the Star Wars ornament careened off his head, an audible ‘clonk’, and then the gun skittering across the floor.
Supergirl flew at high human speed after the Star Wars paperweight, and she landed on top of the kid before the Guard got there and he pulled up short in surprise at the sudden action before him.
“Get the gun.” Morgan ordered him in her cop command voice, and he obeyed immediately. “Don’t touch it. Use a pen.”
Proving why she played ‘Lois Lane’, the pen she had been signing things with was tossed to the guard. ‘Lois’ thinks fast.
Morgan held a hand up in the air, backward and behind herself, and Wonder Woman, who released me, smoothly and quickly slid under the rope and handed Supergirl the pink handcuffs from her little bag.
Supergirl cuffed the kid, used her sleeve to rapidly wipe at them, and then tossed the keys for the cuffs to the guard with the gun on the end of a pen. He caught them with his free hand and looked at them in some amazement.
In the confusion that next ensued, we three slipped away. By the time we reached the exit, Morgan had the blonde wig in the bag, along with the retrieved Star Wars paperweight, since it has her fingerprints on it.
Along the way, I quickly bought Morgan and Jessica matching long leather jackets and knit caps from the booth that had the handcuffs, which they used to cover their costumes and their hair, pulled tightly to also obscure faces. Since I am masked with a yellow beard, I could guide us past security cameras as they kept their faces averted from them when warned of their presence.
It won’t help all the fan pictures that were taken today of them, but maybe it will help obscure our exit.
We got back to the parking garage, into the Pilot and on the road ten minutes after the incident.
It was unlikely there would be a car-to-car search for us, but we did not stop to dally in the back seat as originally planned.
The next morning the three of us sat out in the middle of the Lake on the Nightwing, having breakfast. Jessica showed Morgan and I a new article on the computer screen. It said in the headline ‘Supergirl saves Lois Lane’ and had a picture taken by someone at the show showing the moment Morgan applied the pink fluffy handcuffs.
Jessica pointed at the article text. “It says that Supergirl was assisted by Wonder Woman, but that no one knows who the cosplayers are.”
“Good.” Morgan said.
“Humm. The artist we talked to said to the cops that he is supposed to get a commission to draw ‘Wonder Woman’, and that APD is hoping to talk to us.
“Does it say what the kid’s problem is?” Morgan asked.
“Usual. He is in love with her, and he writes and she never writes back, but she told him on the TV screen she loved him, etc.” Jessica summarized.
Morgan looked at me. “You are being quiet.” She looked at what I am looking at, which is a wall. “What?” She asked.
“We should go over to the Hollow, and get you started on that drawing. It would look really nice right there.” I answered, to severe eyeroll.
I have my priorities.
