Daughter, Lover, Superheroine Ch. 11

The bare-chested Battleborn stood proudly, muscles gleaming with a light sheen of sweat, planting her gloved fists on her hips as she surveyed her remaining opponents, who were reeling from the perfect zinger she'd just thrown. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. "What we have here," she said softly, "is a rare opportunity for me to cut loose, and show you just how strong a woman really is."

**

Barbara let Mercedes down as gently as she could, but even so, the Midnighter's legs buckled and she would've fallen onto her hands and knees if not for Barbara's steadying grip. Mercedes's blonde hair was now utterly disheveled, framing her pale face like a messy halo. Her eyes were wide open and glazed over. She opened her mouth once or twice, and then she doubled over and started to retch.

A petite brunette dressed in an ordinary office worker's garb of black blouse and brown skirt hurried down the steps of the nearby building over to them. Her straight hair went down past her shoulders, framing an impish oval face. She came up to them, flashed a smile of greeting at Debbie, gave an inquisitive half-bow of her head at Barbara, and bent over solicitously over the suffering Mercedes.

"Oh dear, do the Shackles debilitate our kind this much, then?" Ashley McKnight said, addressing the back of her colleague's head.

"It's... not... the Shackles..." Mercedes tried to straighten up, and tottered dizzily. "Oh my... goodness gracious..."

Reflexively, Ashley reached out, but Barbara's arm was already around Mercedes's shoulders. "Pull yourself together," she said quietly. Mercedes paled even further, and nodded weakly. Her slumped shoulders shivered as she drew ragged breaths.

Ashley quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Then Barbara turned to the newcomer. "Can you do it?" she asked, not caring if she sounded brusque. There was too much at stake. "Can you get the Shackles off?"

"I believe so, yes." Ashley hastily took out a plain-looking bronze key from her pocket. She approached Mercedes, who quickly brought up her chained hands. The glow of the power suppressing her magical abilities was steady and undimmed.

"At least the Shackles of Iocaste will make a fine addition to our vault, for our troubles," Ashley muttered, as she released the key, which floated in midair instead of falling to the ground. "Did you mention something about a rescue mission right after this, Debbie?"

"Yes -- please, come along with us, I think we could really use you," Debbie said earnestly.

"Well, since I'm already here... all right, let's get this done." She raised her hands.

"Hail Hecate Enodia, Hail Hecate Empylios, Hail Hecate Hegemonen, in whom we confide! We walk your Way, we kneel before your Gate, we take you as our Guide! Thrice-Hailed Hecate, Mistress of Keys: break our chains, restore our pride!"

The key began to glow... and then there was a flash. Ashley screamed once, and crumpled. The key fell to the ground with a clink -- it now looked dull and corroded, and tendrils of smoke rose from it lazily.

"What... what's going on?" Barbara cried, as Mercedes sagged against her and Debbie rushed to Ashley's side.

"I... I don't understand..." Mercedes whimpered, with undertones of rising panic. "That... that's not supposed to..."

"That's not the goddamned Key!" Ashley yelled. She was reclining on the ground, with Debbie helping her to sit up. She held a hand to her head, wincing in pain. "We've been hoodwinked! It's that goddamned... fucking... Darrin Wade! Again! We were just raided by some Rulu-Shin assholes... he was there, with us, ostensibly on our side... he must've looted the place and left booby-trapped replicas... fakes!"

"Why in blazes didn't you check the bloody thing before you came out?" Mercedes screamed, her voice hoarse.

"Well, you didn't exactly give me a lot of lead time, you know!" Ashley yelled back. "Debbie just told me there was an emergency, and that you somehow had the Shackles on you, and to hurry the fuck up because a Hero was in danger. I sprinted here to Paragon City all the way from Cap Au Diable, I'll have you know! In these!" She gestured at her feet -- she was in three-inch heels.

Debbie looked stricken, but she could only stare at the fake key, and direct helpless, beseeching gazes at her two senior colleagues. "Isn't there some other way? We're right outside the Mansion, here! Is Sigil around? Can we get her to help?"

"She's in Dark Astoria, and so's Kadabra Kill," Ashley snapped. "We've only got neophytes in there right now, most of the seniors are busy with something or the other. Ow... my fucking head... this shuts down my magic for a while, too, incidentally... a fine mess that Darrin Wade has made this time..."

"So... so this isn't the thing we need," Barbara finally spoke up, having silently taken in the whole scene. "It didn't work. You still can't use your magic. And none of you can get us back to my daughter."

The magicians went silent, and looked away shamefacedly. Debbie looked to be on the verge of tears. But Barbara gave her a comforting smile, giving her silent absolution. It wasn't her fault at all, of course. None of this was her doing. She'd just been visiting, for what was to have been a nice peaceful domestic afternoon.

It wasn't really anyone's fault. Superheroines got into peril all the time. But then they had to fight their way out, with all their strength and will. And whenever they failed, the consequences were... dire.

Barbara moved to stand in front of Mercedes Sheldon, who could not meet her gaze. "We have no other choice, it seems. I'll have to try," she said levelly. "Hold out your hands, please."

Mutely, Mercedes complied. "I'm not sure even Ms. Liberty has the strength to break this thing," she murmured. But Debbie came to Barbara's side, and darted a quieting look at her, and she subsided. Ashley got up too, and looked on curiously.

Ms. Liberty doesn't have a daughter to save, Barbara thought. She took hold of the glowing chain with a firm grip, the firmest she could muster.

Then she took a deep breath, and flexed as hard as she could.

The seconds passed. Her muscles bulged. Her hands trembled. Her shoulders shook.

"Gnnnaaaaarrrrrgh!"

Mercedes flinched at the long low grunt of effort Barbara gave vent to. But all three women, about equally slight of build, gazed in wonder at Barbara's display of muscular effort. The sleeves of Barbara's blouse were now stretched almost to breaking point. Indeed, the material of her top was now stretched thin over the expanse of her chest and back.

Still, the chain did not seem to yield.

Barbara's face contorted even more with exertion. I have to break this... for my darling... my Cindy... I have to do it... I can't let up... Her whole body began trembling and shaking with the strain.

"Ashley, don't just... stand there! Isn't there something you could do... a potentiating or fortifying spell of some sort?" Mercedes cried.

"You know that isn't really my thing," Ashley protested hotly. "If you want stuff like that, you want Kadabra, but he's not exactly available, is he? The neophytes and initiates in there right now won't be much use either."

Debbie spoke up urgently. "I can do it. I can take her pain, at least, let her exceed her limits."

"Well, yes, but you'll be severely enervated afterwards..." Mercedes warned her.

"I can take it," Debbie said, her tone brooking no debate. She laid a hand on Barbara's shoulder. "If she can do this for Cindy, I can do my part too."

Barbara felt a flow of soothing numbness from Debbie's touch, going into her center and then spreading throughout her body. Some of her pain and fatigue was being nullified. She could now put more power into her effort to break the Shackles. Her muscles would be strained, but she could recover afterwards. The important thing was to break the damn thing now, without delay.

Groaning, she hunched over and pulled even harder than before.

Her feet dug into the ground, grinding the heels of her shoes flat. Her back muscles flared out as she crunched them together. The veins began to stand out on her forearms.

Debbie concentrated, and seemed to do something else. Suddenly a great deal of Barbara's pain seemed to flow out of her... but it did not vanish. Debbie cried out softly, and shuddered all over.

"Bloody hell, you're really doing it," Mercedes cursed softly. "Don't draw too much into yourself, Debbie. Your body has got its natural limits, and you're not particularly strong, you know!"

"Not the best time, Mercedes, to be telling her that, I think," Ashley murmured from the sidelines. "She's not listening, anyway." Her head tilted sideways as she observed the straining Barbara and how diminutive Debbie looked beside her. "Fascinating."

Debbie's face turned upwards and tightened with agony. Her body went stiff, and several spasms went through her.

She was drawing in Barbara's pain, sharing the strain with her, while suppressing as much of it as she dared so that Barbara would feel the aftereffects only later. Barbara was moved at this realization, but she did not slacken -- could not slacken. She had to do this for her daughter -- she had to break this thing with her strength.

She could do this. She had a mother's strength -- a mother's muscles.

She gave a roar as she ramped up her effort yet again. The veins now stood out on her neck and all over her arms. The fabric of her top began to tear all over her, as her muscles expanded. She was starting to burst out of her clothes.

And then... a tiny crack appeared in the glowing metal.

"It's... it's working!" Mercedes cried.

Ashley went up to her side and stared, all agog. "It's... starting to crack!" she reported, a bit redundantly. "You just might be able to do this, Battler Babe!"

Blinking away tears and sweat, Barbara turned her head slightly to Debbie, who still stood there with one hand resting on Barbara's biceps. Debbie was pale and shaking all over, and bathed in sweat. But she gave Barbara a weak, tremulous smile.

"You can do it, Barbara. Let's do this for Cindy," she whispered.

Barbara closed her eyes, and pulled as she'd never pulled before.

Her palms began to bleed; she tightened her grip even more to compensate, so that the chain wouldn't be slick. Her expanding muscles finally ripped her blouse and bra to shreds; she ignored the sensation of the sudden cold air on her nipples. The lactic acid built up until even her enhanced recovery couldn't keep up; she fought through the pain and refused to flag even a little.

Sweat covered her face and body and flowed down the crevices of her muscles in torrential streams. The fabric of her pants began to tear as well, she was channeling so much energy through her entire body, every muscle was screaming for her to stop but she screamed back NO, she had to keep going, she couldn't let up, this chain stood before her and her Cindy in peril, she had to do it, she just had to do it...

Debbie's knees buckled. Tears of pain streamed down her face. She writhed where she stood in the shared agony, feeling her muscles constrict and contract in strange ways as she tried to draw in as much of Barbara's pain as she could handle. This is my fight too, she thought. She still lay awake at night sometimes, thinking of how Cindy had struggled so mightily against the demoness Salacia to save Debbie's body and soul. This is the least I can do... you were strong for me, so I must be strong for you too!

So she held on tightly to the shaking arm of the woman she unconsciously thought of already as a surrogate mother, sharing and lessening Barbara's pain, making them both stronger together.

Then there was a thunderous crack, as the chain snapped in two.

**

Cindy stood atop the pile of bruised, battered bodies. Her sweat-streaked chest heaved as she took in gulps of air made rancid by sweat and a rusty tinge of blood. It smelled, in other words, like a hardcore gym -- the kind of gym she hadn't been to ever since her powers began maturing. It was a heady smell of raw physicality; it reminded Cindy of the years she spent pumping iron with fellow lifters, working the ropes till her arms ached, flipping tires across the room and back again, heaving heavy chains around, lugging plates of metal from one place to the next. Good times.

She mentally shook herself out of her reverie. Beating up the five remaining Warrior captains, plus the dozens of men who had rushed her afterwards, had taken a tremendous amount of energy, even for her. She was starting to drift off into exhausted daydreaming.

Below her right foot, Hector stirred, moaning softly. His lips were flecked with blood, and the left side of his face was already an angry swollen purple mass from where Cindy had struck him with a smashing haymaker. It had been a pounding slugfest, that last melee, with Hector getting up in her face, gnashing his teeth, locking hands with her for a trial of strength.

Despite her fatigue, it had not been hard to outmuscle him. She had forced him to his knees, bending his wrists back until he wept piteously and begged her to let him go. When she relented and did just that, he had attempted a sneak attack from below. That was when Cindy had struck him on the side of his face so hard that he collapsed unconscious.

And it was then that the Crown of Glory dimmed and fell off his head, rolling away to a stop.

Some part of her was aware that at the moment, posing as she did, she cut a majestic, even intimidating figure. She was a barbarian bare-breasted warrior queen, standing astride a small mountain of her defeated foes. Like Conqueress, in fact -- Vicky probably did this sort of thing every Wednesday, she thought.

Smiling to herself, and even though no one was watching, she raised her arms and flexed them powerfully, luxuriating in her victory, mentally dedicating it to her sister, her teacher... and her mother, most of all.

She'd done it. Mission accomplished. She'd faced down the entire horde of Warriors alone, and stomped them into the ground. Now all that remained was to retrieve that damned ornament, leave the cargo hold, and find a place where she could get decent. When she got back to inhabited areas she'd have to walk around with an arm covering her chest for modesty's sake until someone gave her a spare blanket or something.

At least Mercedes was safe -- Cindy hoped that the Midnighter wouldn't begrudge her that blow on the chin. She'd calibrated her force quite carefully, she thought.

You have won.

Yes, she thought, she had, against the odds. She was even stronger than she'd thought.

You have triumphed. Glory is yours for the taking.

She felt so proud. Her mother would certainly be proud to see her strong, powerful daughter like this. What had it been like for Barbara in her glory days? It must have been something like this.

You crush the weak underfoot. Your might overwhelms all who stand against you. You are worthy.

She was a champion of justice. She had faced Trolls, Warriors, supervillains, even a Daughter of Lilitu on that one memorable occasion, and prevailed. Petty thugs like Skulls and Hellions were barely even worth mentioning. She was Battleborn: tempered by fire, forged by struggle. Darling of her neighborhood, celebrated in the city, beloved of the people.

Cindy blinked. Wait. Are these my thoughts? Where're they even coming from?

You are worthy of all glory. Come to me. Let me grace your brow.

Almost as if someone were tilting her head in the right direction, guiding her gaze, Cindy turned to the Crown, resting on its side on the floor some feet away.

Be the queen you were meant to be. So strong, so pretty. All will exalt your dominion. Let me show you.

Cindy blinked again. When had she stepped off the pile of unconscious men? She was bending down, picking up the Crown, holding it in her hand. Where was this light coming from? It seemed to emanate from somewhere other than the Crown, somewhere around her. The Crown glowed in her hands. Its form shifted -- it became an ornate, elaborate affair that looked like some European royal headpiece. Then in the blink of an eye it was a flimsy silver tiara studded with rubies. Then a plain gold circlet. And finally, it took the form of a golden headband with a facepiece component, two upswept wings, and a diamond-studded crest. It looked like the sort of battle-crown a modern Heroine would wear.

Cindy Beck placed the Crown of Glory atop her head.

**flicker**

Perfection. What lies before her is nothing short of perfection. She knows that the vista she beholds is Perez Park -- once the shame of Paragon City, now redeemed for the good of the people and the glory of its savior, Battleborn. The streets are clean and litter-free, the walls sport no lewd graffiti. Of the gang members who once infested the streets and buildings, there is no sign. The verdant canopy of the trees is now kept properly trimmed and maintained, no longer overgrown foliage. The strange gelatinous creatures dubbed "Hydra" are nowhere to be seen. Small businesses bring life to the sidewalks; people with families stroll along the sunlit paths in the Park proper and laugh without fear; at the statue of Nebula, everyone stops for a prayerful span of time, and some even genuflect in due reverence.

And they turn, and see her -- Cindy Beck, Battleborn, the wearer of the Crown. She has restored Perez Park to Perfection. She has made good on her promise to Nebula's memory. Their eyes widen with joyous astonishment. They point excitedly and cheer her name, and rush towards her with arms outstretched. She stands in a sea of happy, adoring faces. The adulation washes over her like a tidal wave.

**flicker**

Heroes of every description have answered her Call to Justice. They surround the headquarters of the notorious and universally-reviled Crey Corporation. Cindy waits outside the main doors, and then they open. The Countess Crey herself, in her slinky black leather dress that practically screams "Arch-Villainess", is frog-marched out into the open, Manticore on one side of her and Positron on the other. As they pass Cindy, the Countess gnashes her teeth in impotent rage. Manticore tilts his head to her in respect, and raises his bow in salute. He, a founding member of the Freedom Phalanx, is proud to associate with Cindy. Even Ms. Liberty, standing nearby, looks at Cindy with naked admiration.

The Countess will be brought to justice at last. The sickening Paragon Protectors program, that involves duplicating dead or missing Heroes with their DNA and turning the clones into unwilling Crey lackeys, will be stopped, and redress will be made to the victims and their families. The price-gouging practices of Crey Pharmaceuticals will be outlawed -- all it took was the political will, and no sniveling grubby little politician under the sway of lobbyists can withstand the Crown of Glory, or the commands of its wearer. The Countess's assets will be entirely liquidated and used to clean up the intra-city disaster zone known as "Crey's Folly".

Crey Industries will eventually be broken up -- again, no Board of Directors and the greedy fat cats who sit on it can put up the least resistance to Cindy's will. One of the greatest evils this age has ever known has finally been destroyed. Her promise to her friend Debbie Dinh has been fulfilled. A great victory has been achieved this day.

**flicker**

The fascist Fifth Column soldiers throw their weapons down and flee helter-skelter, screaming in terror inside their gas-mask helmets. They have had enough. Their attempt to suborn the Paragon City government and take over the UN headquarters in Steel Canyon has failed utterly. And this is largely because their leader, the terrifying Reichsman from the Axis America dimension, is on all fours in Blyde Square, whimpering like a whipped dog, while Supreme Commander Battleborn stands with arms crossed and a foot atop his back. The would-be conqueror, an alternate version of Marcus Cole who would've given even Statesman an immensely difficult battle, has been conquered, subdued by one whose strength and will are unmatched: by Cindy Beck, elected Supreme Commander of Paragon City in extremis and granted wide emergency powers.