“So you learned nothing, and you didn’t even finish the date?” Macy asked.  She was sitting on Anna’s bed, watching as her adoptive sister donned her costume.

“He was an ass,” Anna said as she pulled the scale mail leggings up her toned legs.  “He hates me.”

“He hates Siren,” Macy corrected.

“I am Siren!”

“He doesn’t know that.  The guy not knowing but disapproving of the super identity, that’s a classic.”

“You’ve been reading too many comics.”  Anna pulled her shirt on.  “You can’t have a relationship with someone who doesn’t know who you are.  It’s great fictional tension, but it’s not realistic.”

“So you want someone who knows who you are and what you do, and you also want someone you won’t influence with your powers.  Hmmm, if only you knew someone like that,” Macy mused.

Anna paused from adjusting her armor.  The material was great, but tended to pinch if it wasn’t on just perfect.  “Tyrese doesn’t know what I do.”

“Do you really think he’d care?” Macy asked.  “Honestly.”

Anna had in fact thought about it.  Not so much the idea of going out with Tyrese, though that had crossed her mind as well.  “He’s got his secrets, I’ve got mine.  It’s nice just having a friend that doesn’t care what I do.  And besides,” she reached over, picking up her purse and pulling out the ball gag Macy had slipped inside.  “You’ve lost all your advice giving privileges.”  Anna pinched the strap between two fingers, holding it like it was a dead rat, and tossed it at Macy.  “You can have that back.”

Macy caught it deftly.  “Thanks.  It would be tough explaining to Ellen where her favorite gag went.”

“Favorite?  Ugh,” Anna groaned, shaking her head.  She adjusted her top one more time before picking up her skirt and stepping into it.

“So you’re just going to go wander around and hope you run into this slime ball guy?”  Macy asked, twirling the bright red ball on its straps.

“That’s the plan.  I'd really like to find and bring this guy before the police, shove it in Merrick's stupid face."

"That's the spirit.  When justice fails, there's always petty competition."

Anna straightened her skirt.  "I'm not being petty."  Macy raised her eyebrow.  "Alright, maybe I'm a little petty.  But this guy needs to be stopped.  One person has already died, the sooner anybody stops him, be it me or the cops, the better.  And if it happens to be me, that would go a long way towards people in this city taking me seriously."

"Everyone's already seen you ta tas, that ship has sailed."  

"That's not necessarily a death sentence for my career you know."

"Name one Heroine who's bared all," Macy challenged.

"Oh, that's easy."

"A reputable one.  Name one member of the LC.”

Anna cocked her head to the side, thinking.  “Lini!” she blurted.

“Meh, she had her Cloud hacked, that’s not really her fault.”

“Are you saying mine was my fault?”

Macy hesitated.  Her silence answered Anna’s question.  “Look, not your fault, but just, rebuilding your reputation is going to be tough.  You’ve been retired for eight years, and then in the first two months you get back in the game people are trying to sue you and then you wind up hanging over a cruise ship half naked in a mermaid costume.  If you get this guy, it’s a good start, but I don’t want to see you get your hopes up when nothing changes.”

Anna tried to hide it, but her sister’s words hurt.  “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Oh Anna.”  Macy got up off the bed, putting her hands on her sister’s shoulders.  “When you got kicked out of the LC, you went through a real rough patch.  I just don’t want to see you go down that path again.  I love that you’re out there again, trying to do good.  I’ve always been your biggest supporter.  One day, probably not tomorrow or next week, maybe not even in the next year, but someday, the world is going to see you how I’ve seen you: a hero.”

Anna wrapped Macy in a fierce hug, wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye.  “Thanks sis.”

“Just go out there and do your thing.”



Anna snapped awake as she felt a hand on her shoulder.  She flailed around, disoriented, until she realized she was in the teachers lounge, Tyrese gently shaking her awake.  She must have passed out on the table on her lunch.

“Rough night?” the gym teacher signed.

She rubbed her eyes, nodding.  Several rough nights, actually.  Four nights in a row she’d been out hunting Slimeball.  He’d robbed two more houses in that time, and neither Siren nor the police were any closer to catching him.

Tyrese slid a coffee across the table.  “You’ve got class, and Principal Edmunds is on the warpath.”

“Oh shit,” she said out loud, looking at the time.  She snatched up the coffee and made a dash for the door, making a quick pause to give Tyrese a grateful peck on the cheek.

She reflected back on her conversation with Detective Merrick, bitching about how much money the LC made.  Maybe it was too much, but there was a reason so many heroes and heroines were joining paid organizations.  The whole double life, secret identity thing was moving out of style, mostly because of how just unpractical it was.  Crime fighting was a full time job, especially when you were working alone, without any resources.  Her performance as a teacher was suffering greatly in the last two months.  

Macy’s encouragement stuck with her.  It was going to take time.  But that didn’t make it fair to her students.  Maybe she should look for another job.  Or do some sort of super heroine kickstarter.  The thought brought a smile to her lips as she sprinted down the halls of the school, trying not to spill coffee all over herself.

“Miss Carillon.”  She came to an abrupt halt, the hot coffee spilling over the edge of the cup across her fingers as she cringed at the voice.

“Class started ten minutes ago,” Principal Edmunds said, standing outside her classroom.

Anna sighed.  Screw it, she thought, glaring at the pudgy man who held her job in his hands.  “Go sit in your office, Harold.”

A look of surprise crossed his stern features, but he obeyed, turning and walking down the hall.

Anna composed herself and walked briskly into her classroom.  “Sorry class,” she signed.  “Let’s get started.”



Siren pulled the newest addition to her utility belt out, a Five Hour Energy drink, and slammed it back, grimacing at the taste.  She returned the empty bottle to her belt, and dropped off the small wall she was perched on top of.

“Night five,” she said to herself, looking around the dark streets.  This hoping to be in the right place at the right time thing was exhausting, boring work, but she had a good feeling about tonight.  To be fair, she’d had a good feeling on the first night, and the second.  It wasn’t until the third night spent wandering the rich neighborhoods that she started to get discouraged, and last night had just been awful.  But tonight, she was feeling good.  She’d gotten a decent nap after work, and felt recharged.  And lucky.  This particular neighborhood hadn’t been hit yet, and while Slimheball left no discernible pattern in his robberies, he had yet to hit the same neighborhood twice.  

It was a pretty nice neighborhood, all the houses, mansions practically, bearing the names of the fancy security systems they sported on their gates and walls.  Security systems never seemed to hamper her guy, the criminal routinely setting them off as he broke in, ransacked the places, and escaped, leaving the house and occasional occupants covered in his signature slime.

Siren was about to call it a night, the discouraged feeling creeping up on her as it approached four in the morning, when she noticed a light turn on in one of the houses.  It could just be someone getting up early for work, she told herself, trying not to get her hopes up.  But if you could afford a house like that, you probably weren’t the type of person working a job that started at five in the morning.

She approached cautiously, vaulting over the wrought iron fence gating into the meticulously landscaped yard.  Moving in a crouch, she dashed up to the house, watching for movement behind the windows.

As she reached the side of the house, she heard a crash coming from inside, followed by shouting.  Finally, she thought, trying not to be too excited at the idea that people were being robbed and in potential danger.

Siren pulled out her baton, smashing in a window.  She cleared away the broken glass before grabbing the window and hoisting herself up.  She was half in, half out of the window, when she found herself staring at tall, thin man dressed in black.  His face was dirty, a grungy skullcap pulled tightly over his greasy hair.  She recognized him immediately from the police sketches.  This was the infamous Slimeball.

She started to open her mouth to tell him to freeze when a red seem in his throat opened, and he coughed a wad of greenish brown goop at her.  Holding herself in the window, she couldn’t raise her arms to try and deflect it, and she barely had time to shut her mouth before it splattered across her lower face, the impact and her surprise knocking her out of the window.

“Hmmgg!” she cried in surprise, her hand reflexively coming up to her mouth to try and wipe it away.  Her hand caught fast in the sticky goop, and she quickly lowered her left hand to avoid getting it caught as well.

“Well, what have we here,” Slimeball said, leaning out the window, looking down at her.

Siren remembered what Detective Merrick had said about forensics having to use acid to remove the slime.  Stupid, she cursed herself, rolling to the side, narrowly dodging another ball of slime fired from the burglar’s throat.

Slimeball leapt into the window, perching on the sill on all fours while she got to her feet.  The goo was hot on her face, its thick and slimy consistency making her skin crawl with revulsion.  A few strands of her long red hair from her wig had gotten stuck to it as well, obscuring her vision.

She eyed her baton, lying under the window where she’d dropped it.  Got to hold onto that thing better, she thought.  Maybe not as tightly as her hand was currently glued over her mouth.  

“So you must be Siren,” Slimeball said, winding up and firing another blob of goo from his throat.  She dodged it, diving for her baton.  Slimeball jumped out of the window, spitting another glob at her.  Unable to dodge, she held up her free hand, the goop coating her glove.  Slimeball kicked her outstretched arm, knocking her limb to her side where it stuck fast to her skirt.

“That’s your hands and that dangerous mouth of yours taken care of, let’s do something about those legs,” Slimeball said, winding back.

Siren charged.  Things were bad, but she wasn’t out of the game yet.  She slid under the sticky projectile, Rolling to her side and planting a foot solidly in his chest, knocking him back.  She wriggled her fingers, pulling her hand down as hard as she could.  Her lips and face screamed in agony as she pulled against the glue-like substance, but she was able to slip her hand out of the glove, leaving it dangling from her mouth.  She picked up the baton with her now free hand, kipping up to her feet and bringing it to bear across the seem in her foe’s neck.

Slimeball reeled, coughing and choking as the fiberglass instrument struck his throat right across the goo-shooting orifice.  Siren raised the baton again to knock him out, but he sprung backwards across the grass with surprising speed, recovering enough to spit another glob, catching her right between the knees.

With her legs suddenly hobbled, she fell forward, unable to keep up with her own momentum, stumbling.  He spit again, hitting her free hand, pinning it to her chest, still clutching her baton, now glued in her pinned fist, before she fell face first into the grass

Slimeball jumped to his feet, cocking his head at the approaching sound of police sirens.

“Siren, saved by the siren, he said, spitting one last ball of slime at her, plastering across her back, before he turned and ran.

Siren groaned, working her hand that was still protected by her glove until she was able to pull it free.  She pushed herself up into a kneeling position, the goo ripping up grass and dirt that got stuck in its grip.  

This was not the blow her reputation needed, found by the cops at a crime scene, covered in slime.  Balancing on her free hand, she got her legs under her and hopped up, shuffling awkwardly away from the house.  She could hear the cops pull into the driveway as she navigated her way over the fence, careful not to get stuck on anything.

She was no longer feeling good about tonight.