Daughter, Lover, Superheroine Ch. 11

Legions of Cindy's followers pursue the broken Nazis, whooping joyfully as they conduct the mop-up operation. In the sky above, Flight Division Commander Fusionette rains destruction on the Fifth Column tanks, artillery and assorted materiel with bolts and waves of energy. In the streets, Ground Forces Commander Faultline sends reverberations through the ground, cutting off lines of retreat and ensuring the near-total eradication of their enemies.

Cindy smiles coldly down at the quivering back of Reichsman. The Crown gleams in the lone beam of sunlight that filters in through the layers of smoke permeating the sky above. With a flex of her leg muscles, she drives Reichsman flat onto the ground, flat on his belly like the fascist snake he is. With another harder flex, she hears the cracking of his rib cage. He will be out of action for a very, very long time. Perhaps she will command that he be incarcerated for life, and thrown into a prison filled with his enemies.

The Crown compels the obedience... nay, the willing cooperation of knowledgeable allies who volunteer ways to augment her powers, such that even Reichsman who defeated the entire Freedom Phalanx by himself could not withstand her. The Crown has made her the most brilliant military strategist and tactician this world has ever known. And soon, another world will know her dominion -- Cindy intends to travel to Axis America and liberate it from the fascists. Already, she has given orders to begin assembling a Task Force for this purpose.

She will be the Breaker of the Fifth Column.

**flicker**

Cindy stands atop the highest tower in a shining city of alabaster and gold, and surveys her domain.

Statues of her can be found at intervals throughout the streets everywhere. Children play in the shadow of her beneficent protection. The sky is blue, the trees are green, the rivers and oceans teem with life. The world kneels before her. More than one world kneels before her.

For hers is the power and glory, forever and ever.

She has won. Victory is hers. She has wiped clean the shame and defeat of the past. She has put to rights what was askew and wrong. In place of tyrants, the people have a Queen, glorious and beautiful, strong and pretty and terrible as the dawn.

All love her.

She smiles widely, feeling the joy in every cell of her body. Righteousness can prevail. Justice is inexorable. This is the kind of world she has created with her own two hands, with her marvelously strong body and sound mind bestowed upon her by the best mother in the known universe. Her mother.

She reaches out to take Barbara's hand... and her hand closes on thin air.

"Mom?"

She turns to the side, and it seems as though she moves slowly, in dreamlike fashion. Confusion pierces her like a lance through still water, causing upsetting waves and ripples where previously there was calm. "Mom?"

Mom should be here, beside me, sharing my victories.

Where's my mother?

You have won the ultimate victories. You have conquered. Glory is yours.

Where's my mother?!

The power and the glory

WHERE'S MY MOTHER?!

why do you seek for

Where am I? What is all this? What have I done? Who are you? What's happening? Where -- is -- my -- mother?!

The weak are culled. Only the strong survive, by your decree. But none are stronger than you, so all live by your mercy and forbearance.

Cindy blinked. She was still in the cargo hold, but at the same time a disturbing double impression held her in its grip. She was still atop that tower, in that shining city of white and gold. And now it seemed to her that another voice was speaking, another entity.

The Crown, she thought. Hadn't Odysseus said something about the Crown deceiving Hector?

"What do you mean, the weak are culled?" she said aloud, her voice thick with anger. The mist of confusion was clearing away -- she was starting to understand what was happening. "It's you, isn't it! You're in the Crown -- you are the Crown!"

She reached up to take it off her head, but froze in mid-act, grimacing. Part of her didn't want to. It felt good and right, to leave it where it was.

Your mother, Barbara. She is not strong enough to join you as you journey to fulfill your destiny. She is the past. Glory is your future.

"My... mother... is not... weak," Cindy grunted. Her hands moved nearer to the Crown. Her biceps peaks bulged.

The voice speaking inside her had acquired an actual tone: a mildly irritated one.

Barbara Beck's most ardent wish is to be a good homemaker. She would have wanted to be a good wife as well, but that was taken from her by dint of her weakness. She is too soft within her soul. Her spirit is too gentle. She has no place in the world you -- we will create. Think of it!

Again the Crown of Glory tried to show Cindy its visions of promise, but this time, Cindy had the presence of mind to resist being drawn into the extremely vivid illusions.

"Bullshit!" she yells, her voice echoing in the cavernous cargo hold. "Bull fucking shit! My mom is the strongest, most beautiful, most wonderful woman in the world, and nothing or nobody can ever tell me different!"

Her hands closed on the Crown, and her arms tremble as she strained to lift it off her head.

The voice now sounded outraged.

Think of the future! Think of the good you could do!

"Not without Mom beside me," she grunts.

She would only hold you back. You could do so much good for the world. Do you not call yourself a champion, a Hero?

"What you were showing me," she said through gritted teeth, "was not heroic. I wasn't serving the common weal. I was dictating it. I was using power like a baseball bat."

People are wicked, and petty. They will not choose to be good, as you wish them to be. The strong, like you, must make them good. Power is the only way! The Power and the Glory! Forever and ever!

Cindy laughed out loud. The peals of her youthful laughter reverberated, bouncing off the walls. "Mom taught me this -- people must choose to be good, or whatever happens isn't good at all! The people we serve aren't the means to an end -- they are the end! It is the place of Heroines like us to serve, protect and save. Do you know what that means, Crown? It means we save everyone, even our enemies; it means we save people even from their own mistakes; it means we sacrifice ourselves for them, and not the other way around!"

Taking a deep breath, Cindy pressed her hands against the Crown. A whim took her, and she began singing under her breath. The song seemed to come from somewhere else, not from within her.

"My mother told me/Some day I might die/For a noble cause/And sail to distant shores/Stand up tall and proud/Heroes' lives we cheer/Remember what we fight for: Freedom and Justice/Freedom and Justice!"

The Crown slipped off easily. The otherworldly glow faded. And once more, Cindy was alone in her mind.

Except that of course, she was never truly alone.

She stood for some long moments, holding the Crown in her hands. It looked plain now; it had the appearance of no crown in particular - just the idea of "crown". Her eyes couldn't seem to focus on its shape properly.

Well, job done. It was time to go back to Mom.

The air warped and shimmered. Cindy whirled around. "What now?" she groaned.

She'd barely had time to catch her breath from her physical and psychic ordeals -- what new threat was presenting itself?

TO BE CONTINUED!