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Chapter Twenty Nine

Stone Mountain Park, 1985

It’s an un-written law of Nature that when you really need a restroom, there’s never one around.

I’d gone from working up the courage to say something, anything to my mother who distressingly wasn’t that much older than me just now, when suddenly Mortagain was right next to Ed and I. I blinked and suddenly we were in sunshine, staring up at The Carving, much to the surprise and shock of the passers by.

Fortunately Ed had his hologram thing going, but I was still a drop dead gorgeous red head in a skin tight rendition of the Confederate Battle Flag, minus the stars. Let me cut to the chase and say we drew stares. Cindy collapsed, yet another big help from the mentalist of the crowd, and we were left to returning the stares of about two hundred folks who a second ago had been relaxing.

I’ve never been one to think quickly, so when the training kicked in, I just yelled, “Ya’ll will be safe here! Everything’s alright folks!” Then I shot into the sky like I was trying to get back to a battle that was, thankfully for the revelers, a long way away.

“Who was that masked lady, mommy?” I heard the child on the picnic closest to us ask as the lawn became a postage stamp below and I could stop trying to keep a snicker in.

Careful sweetie, I thought to myself. Nobody wants a law suit…!

From there I carefully descended to the summit, doing my very best to stay out of sight until I could find a restroom to change in and get back to Ed and Ginnevia. Of course, this is when I ran headlong into the universal Law I opened this particular chapter with. There were no restrooms on the top of Stone Mountain! There are no restrooms along the trails up to the top of Stone Mountain.

Evidently if one gets the call of Nature while enjoying Nature, one should be possessed of considerable bladder control. So I found myself a thicket reasonably far off the trail and got my jeans and sweater back out of their pouch on my utility belt, much the worse for wear, and got changed. Once that was accomplished I got myself back down the mountain in a combination of flight and walking, flying where no one would see me and walking when they might.

My mind was reeling over the fact that I had been in two places at once in the same room one of me safe in my mother’s distended belly, the other outside looking in as it were. You know, if my life keeps going the way it’s going I’m going to make some therapist a fortune as the subject of his new best seller.

The Freudian angles of this little bit of drama would give whoever my future therapist would be fits.

As luck would have it, I finally caught a break as the park wasn’t particularly crowded on the up mountain trails so I was able to get back down to The Green in pretty good time. As I emerged from the tree line I spotted Ed wandering around, probably looking for me so I discretely flew over.

“Hey you,” I greeted, and then my senses caught up with my joy of seeing him again as I realized from his body language he was trembling with rage.

“That…that…whore…!” he sputtered through his pacing. I gently caught a hold of him and forced him to stop and look at me.

“Whoa, Ed, what’s going on? You look ready to go ten rounds with the Devil himself!”

It’s not often that Ed is at a loss for words. Here lately, those times always seem to be about me. I’m not sure of how enviable a position that is, and based on the tale that spilled out of his mouth I became more and more certain it most certainly was not enviable. It’s funny; we use words like evil and betrayal so blithely in this day and age without really stopping to consider their true meanings.

That day, for a brief moment I truly discovered what they really meant.

When he finally ground to a halt, his own anger not letting him realize what he was doing to me until he finished, I think I handled the news like any reasonable adult would.

I promptly threw up.

That anyone could be so…so absolutely selfish made me wonder if Mortagain was truly sane anymore; or, for that matter, if she ever had been in the first place. I had become a gift it turns out but by whom and for whom was a subject of some debate. My first inclination was to fly back to wherever that little bitch of a mentalist was and tear her limb from limb. This must have shown on my face, too, as Ed’s first inclination was the grab a hold of me and keep me from doing just that.

“Belle! Belle!” he shouted at me until I stopped struggling and would look him in the eye. “Killing Mortagain isn’t going to change anything!”

And that’s when, dear readers, I well and truly lost my temper.

“Take your filthy hands off me!” I screamed at him with sufficient volume to draw the attention of a couple of passing joggers.

“Hey!” one of the braver of them challenged Ed. “What’s going on here?”

Ed let me go and took a step back, never taking his eyes off me. “It’s nothing,” he called over his shoulder. “I just forgot myself for a minute.”

The jogger didn’t seem to be expecting that particular answer and took a halting step forward. “You alright, Miss?”

My insides were in a knot of, as they say, biblical proportions. I couldn’t look at my erstwhile rescuer or who I had thought of my best friend. I just turned and ran.

* * *

It didn’t take me that long for my rage fueled flight to run out of gas. When it did I was weary in a way I hadn’t been since I’d started wearing bras. I stumbled up to a rock, sat down and indulged myself in a good cry.

Society instills in us from the time we’re little boys that we don’t cry. No matter what’s wrong, it isn’t worth crying about. To be honest, I’m not sure why that is, other than the passing bit of unmanliness, crying is actually quite therapeutic. When I had been male I’d always felt ashamed after crying, but not really sure of why. I had actually been proud of myself for not having let myself cry since I was about fifteen or so.

Even since I’d lost my manhood I still felt a twinge of shame for letting myself cry that I really didn’t understand. Perhaps it had been because they had been in front of Mortagain and some part of me, even though I hadn’t realized I’d know her, felt that as a superhero I should be made of sterner stuff and not given to crying jags.

This was the first time I’d cried my eyes out alone though.

My mind had been running circles around the odd journey my life had suddenly taken and all that I had lost. But, when you really stop and think about it, how important really is something like male or female? You would think I’d be far more concerned with the differences between being just an average Joe verses the, well, the mutant I had become. I wasn’t truly human anymore; human beings cannot fly, cannot lift tanker trailers full of ten thousand gallons of water and most certainly cannot be shot and not get so much as a bruise.

Perhaps I should get a bracelet to remind myself of my new station. Something, say, in silver engraved with ‘What Would Superman Do?’

Nevertheless I finally reached something of an epiphany as the crying jag left me. The Greeks have a word for this feeling, one I didn’t truly comprehend until I had experienced it first hand. They call this feeling catharsis, the complete draining of emotion until a very pleasant numbness sets in.

I could write an entire book about the jumble of thoughts that flowed through me during that jag and still not do a good job of describing it. But, more importantly, the place I arrived at showed me the world very clearly.

I became very sure of a couple of different things. First that it really didn’t matter what gender I was. I wouldn’t have had any choice in how I was born, so why should this change affect me? More to the point, as perhaps the Man of Steel himself would point out, now I had the chance to do some real good, to make the world a better place that would put separating recyclables from regular trash to shame.

This wasn’t an opportunity that every body got and the finger of Fate had picked me. I had to use that and whether I liked it or not, I had to be a good role model.

Second, I was certain that Ed had not had any kind of a hand in what had happened to me. In a very real sense, he was as big a victim in this as I had been. Now, there was no way on Earth that I was going to allow Sovereign to control Ed through me, but neither should I penalize my best friend for something he had had nothing to do with.

I regretted very much that I’d lost my temper with him and looked back the way I’d come from to wonder if I’d gotten him in trouble. I felt a very real sense of relief to find him cautiously strolling towards me, obviously afraid that if I caught sight of him I’d take off again. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and motioned him over where he sat heavily next to me on the boulder. “Ah’m sorry,” I decided to open with. “Ya’ll didn’t have anything to do with what Mortagain did and Ah should not have lost mah temper.”

“I’m sorry for what’s happened to you, Jennifer. And I’m more sorry it was evidently done for my benefit. If I’d had any idea…!”

I covered his lips with a finger to quiet him down. “Ah know that, sugah. And it doesn’t change what Ah have to do, but more to the point, it doesn’t change anything between you and me.”

* * *

The top of the 191 Peachtree Building, 2006

I couldn’t tell you why my brain took its trip down memory lane when I saw Cindy disappear over the edge of the building. Evidently some kind of mental block had been lifted and I re-lived that horrific spring day before my birth with all the clarity of it having just happened a second ago.

I’m a bit ashamed to say it took me a moment to remember where I was, but when I did I leapt into action. I shot at full speed over the edge and after Cindy’s body pin wheeling through the air below me. On one of the revolutions she caught sight of me and made a gesture but she was obviously too terrified to focus her power properly and I didn’t even feel a bit of resistance as I pushed myself faster.

With my left hand I reached out, ready to grab whatever appendage of hers I could reach before we ran out of air, my other fumbling about in my utility belt for the item I’d need when I did. The ground was coming up at a frightening pace but I was able to latch onto her ankle and get a good grip.

“Gotcha!” I exalted as I backed off the speed as quickly as I dared.

The animal was back now, snarling and snapping at me upside down. "Put me down you bitch!"

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" I calmly demanded as I began to climb. She made to gesture, but then thought the better of it. "Uh-uh," I warned her. "Ah'm the only thing between you and sudden messy stop, sugah, so now you're going to play nice. And while we're on the subject," I told her with a wink as I locked the power inhibitor around her ankle. "Ya'll are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent; you get a lawyer, blah blah."

Cindy growled out a slew of gutter trash, but that was slowing down as the blood rushed to her head. I got the feeling it wouldn't be long before she passed out. Which, considering the stream of obscenities, would probably something of a blessing. We got back to the roof of the tower just as Geoffrey and Albert were arriving. I got Cindy right side up and her hands behind her back securely with a mundane pair of handcuffs and then made sure there wouldn't be a repeat of her taking a dive by handcuffing the cuffs to a handy pipe, well back from the edge.

"I see you have things in hand after all," smirked Albert as Geoffrey and I exchanged glances.

"Hold that thought, sweetie," I told him as I got a good hand full of Cindy's jacket and caught her face by the chin. "Ah am sick of that mouth of yours," I told her as I stuffed the improvised gag into her mouth. "So you get to be quiet for a bit."

"What happened, Belle?" asked the Eagle as I got a bit closer to conversational distance.

"Well, Geoffrey, that's a loaded question," I replied. "And it's gonna take a bit to explain."

Albert frowned as he stared at me. "Why can't I read your mind?"

"Oh that? It's simple, let me show you," I lied as I used the closeness to force his arm up behind him and slap my other inhibitor on the wrist I had control of. "Albert Filby, you are under arrest for violation of Clause Eight of the Paranormal Regulatory Act, to whit, the intentional infection of James Anderson with McKimpson Strain."

"Belle?" drawled out Geoffrey, one of his nastier wrist gadgets in my direction. I clipped the handcuffs as tight as I thought I could get away with and removed the Eye of Horus from Albert's head before I slowly and deliberately turned back to the American Eagle.

"Geoffrey, Ah swear and affirm as a duly sworn peace officer of the State of Georgia that Ah am acting in mah right mind and am not under any undue influence. If it will make ya'll feel better, feel free to put a power inhibitor on me."

"Left wrist," he said, his aim not wavering. I dutifully held out my arm and allowed him to lock the bracelet.

I looked over my shoulder at a sputtering Sovereign and smiled. "As ya'll were out on bail, consider your rights read."

"Alright," Geoffrey sighed, finally lowering whatever it was he had me covered with. "I'm certainly looking forward to this."

"Let me work backward a bit," I told him as he took off his helmet to look me in the eye. "To start with, he's under arrest for a new charge as Ah stated earlier. He's the reason Ah got infected in the first place. He put something in the air that would insure that anyone infected with McKimpson around GSU that day would gender bend, then he set Power Ball loose and caused Spirit Wolf to get injured so that Ah would get exposed and everyone would think it was an accident."

Albert looked up at me, shock across his face. "How do you know that?"

The American Eagle snorted. "I'll take that as an admission of guilt. So, how do you know that, Jennifer?"

I pointed over to Cindy who was still hissing at us through the gag. "She put him up to it once she found out that Ed had the hots for me and since Ah wasn't a switch hitter made sure this would be the end result. In her defense, she was supposed to be the one Power Ball was to hurt. Randy got carried away, as usual and Spirit Wolf wound up being the trigger."

Albert's mouth was hanging open in shock as he looked over at Mortagain and back to us. "I see, my mental edits of Miss Brown must have failed somehow and she told you. Not that it matters, at some point they can be re-done."

I leaned down to be more on eye level with my tormentor and smirked. "Actually, sugah, your wife was the one to spill the beans and you won't ever be back in mah mind again, that's thanks to Alchemist. And if Ah get mah way, you won't use your powers again. They have rules about that in Ft. Leavenworth so ya'll get used to wearing that new bracelet."

"Sarah?" breathed Albert in disbelief.

"Now," I said around my smile of triumph as I turned back to Geoffrey. "Ah'm not sure why Cindy attacked me. She was fine one minute, and then it was like she was somebody else completely and hell bent on sending me to the hereafter."

"I see."

"Ah thought she was being mind controlled, but Ah would have thought that would have been blocked by the power inhibitor."

Geoffrey sadly shook his head. "No, she's not being mind controlled." He walked over to her and raised his voice into the Cop Tones I was so familiar with. "You're going to answer for your crimes, Darren Miller!"

Cindy jerked as if he'd slapped her and looked up at Geoffrey. "I know who you are, I know what you've done, and you're going to pay!"

"Miller?!" I shouted in outrage. "There wasn't anything about him being a paranormal on the warrant sheet!"

"He wasn't," Geoffrey told me casually before looking back down on Cindy. "You are Ginnevia Cynthia Brown!" he ordered her. "You are not Darren Miller, you are not a murderer or a child molester; you are Ginnevia Brown!"

I walked over, more than a little confused by this turn of events as Geoffrey continued to shout her name at her for several minutes before she relaxed somewhat, her eyes darting back and forth between us. The 'animal' was evidently in its cage once more. Her mumbles around the gag seemed to be attempts to apologize as she burst into tears and refused to look at me. "What in the name of Sir Thomas Lipton is going on?" I demanded softly.

"It doesn't happen often," he muttered as he took the gag from her mouth.

"It's happened before?" I sputtered, outraged.

"Mortagain is a receptive telepath," Geoffrey told me softly. "Every now and then she gets exposed to a particularly strong personality and this happens."

“She was right up against Miller when she saved the baby," I breathed. "She probably touched him..."

"And he was making up his mind to kill himself," finished the Eagle. "This is my fault, Jennifer. I should have made sure Ginnevia went through the normal counseling we use to make sure she hadn't accidentally picked up his personality. But with that donnybrook you got into in Macon, the IA investigation and having to deal with DFACS it slipped my mind."

"I tried to fight him," Cindy sobbed. "I tried so hard...!"

"How many personalities does she have?" I finally asked Geoffrey coldly.

"Normally just the one," he replied after a long moment. "The psych swore they were just temporary manifestations, one of the downsides of her power."

"This ends now, Geoffrey," I told him flatly.

"That's not your call, Belle," he started but I cut him off.

"No, it is now. She doesn't need to be out here being exposed to, how did you put it? Particularly strong personalities? Ah'd say that's pretty much the definition of a super villain, wouldn't you? You used this poor girl because either it was convenient or you're just that big of a martinet. No, she needs help and Ah'm going to see she gets it."

"Belle..."

"NO, Geoffrey, Ah will not allow this any more!" I shouted at him. "Now, ya'll have a choice to make and you damn well better make the right one. You can grow a spine and do what you know is right, or you can keep kowtowing to Uncle Sam and be just as big a waste of skin as Darren Miller was!"

* * *

The hair stylist kept fussing with my cowlick as I tried to get comfortable in the chair. It was a very nice chair, over stuffed Corinthian leather and normally it would be quite comfortable. As it was, it was about ninety degrees under the flood lights and my stomach was doing flip-flops.

It was terribly ironic; here I was the tough super heroine nervous about being on TV. If I wasn't so terrified I'd probably laugh myself silly over it.

Ed was hovering nearby, still chewing over the revelations I'd helped him remember earlier from our suppressed memories. I did my best not to be angry at Cindy and I hoped very much that the optimism the doctors at Highland Rivers was well founded. The facility was in Canton so it would be easy to visit and I had vowed that if I could help no one else, I would help Cindy Brown be herself again.

It was nice that Geoffrey had finally realized and admitted his culpability in the tragedy that was Cindy Brown. Teleportation was evidently one of those rare powers that doesn’t manifest very often; to have one on the team was evidently more than he could resist. But, now she was going to be somewhere she could be helped, and with a little bit of luck, we’d finally get to meet the real Cindy after all.

I couldn’t keep a smile of triumph off my face as the hairdresser finally decided that there was nothing he could do with the cowlick and gave up. Today was definitely going to be a red letter day in my diary. Ed and I finally understood each other, the mental menace that was Sovereign was going to be back in jail for at least the night until his over priced lawyers could bail him out again and stage one of my little master plan was well underway.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure how things could get any sweeter when one of the Production Assistants came up with a man wearing a very expensive suit. “Miss Belle? We’re on in ten minutes, but this gentleman said it was urgent.”

“Thomas Peters,” he introduced himself, offering a cool, firm handshake. “I’m with Corvin, Fenson and Wolfe.”

“Mr. Peters,” I greeted with a smile. “Ah’m having a wonderful day and Ah do hope ya’ll are not going to spoil it.”

He laughed a polite laugh and shook his head. “I certainly hope not, ma’am,” he told me with a chuckle. “I have some papers for you to sign. We’ve filed papers in Honduras against the news agencies you instructed us about. They’re quite egger to settle out of court. I have their preliminary offer here for your review.”

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not a lawyer, nor do I play one on TV so I don’t feel the slightest bit of embarrassment to tell you while I skimmed over the sheaf of papers he handed me, I really had no idea what I was looking at and told him so. He got a chuckle from that and indicated a couple of the highlighted lines. “This is their original offer, minus our fees, court costs and the like the payout sum to you would be this. If that meets with your approval, just sign here, here and initial there.”

You know, there are times when you just know there is a God and that He loves you. This was one of them for me. Even after paying for the ink and pens and two martini lunches for the lawyers, I was looking at a sum with two commas and six zeroes to the left of the decimal. “Could Ah trouble ya’ll to cut this in half and put one half in a trust fund for mah child’s college?”

He offered a pen. “We’d be happy to oblige you. And what would you like done with the other half?”

“Ah think Ah can trust a check from ya’ll,” I told him with a laugh. “And they had no issue with the other stipulations?”

“With your agreement, they will run full page, front page retractions and apologies in the next edition. I’ve made sure you’ll get copies of all of them.”

“Mr. Peters, Ah honestly can’t say why lawyers have the reputation they have with gentlemen like you. It’s been a pleasure,” I told him as I busily signed my name.

“If you want an answer to that ma’am, I’d recommend you get in touch with the editors of these newspapers. You have a pleasant evening.”

Mr. Peters took his leave as Roy sat down heavily in the other chair and the activity became a bit frantic behind the lights as a red light over one of the cameras came on and Roy ‘The Alchemist’ Martin casually switched to his third personality; that of local TV show host.

“Welcome to Super Talk, the most powerful hour of discussion in Georgia. I’m your host, Roy Martin, and with me tonight is a very special guest in her first TV appearance, please welcome the new Southern Belle.”

There came a round of applause on cue as Roy turned to me. “Belle, thanks for coming down tonight and, before we get started, I understand you have a few words for us.”

The knot in my stomach threatened to spread to my entire insides as the camera turned to me. I forced my best Sunday smile and nodded. “Thank you, Roy and yes, Ah do have a thing or two to say before we get started. Some of your viewers might be thinking of voting for Albert ‘Sovereign’ Filby, who just announced his run for Congress the other day.”

“That right,” Roy told me evenly. “I understand you have something to say about that?”

“Well, Ah’d just like to let the folks know who they’re thinking about voting for. Let me tell ya’ll a little story. It’s about a young man named Jim, and Ah think ya’ll will find it very enlightening….”

* * *