“Your phone’s ringing, babe,” Ellen said.

Macy poked her head out of the shower.  “Who is it?”

“Unknown number.  You want me to answer, or just let it go to voicemail.”

Macy shut the shower off, stumbling out of it still soaking wet, hastily grabbing a towel off the rack as she vacated the bathroom.  “Give it here!” she shouted.

Ellen gave her an odd look, but tossed the phone.  Macy almost let it fall through her wet hands, but she caught it and answered it just before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?” she answered, adjusting the towel around herself, aware that her hair was still soapy.

“Macy, it’s me,” Anna’s voice came over the phone.

“Jesus Anna, what happened to you?” Macy hissed, backing her way back into the bathroom and closing the door.  Ellen raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as her girlfriend disappeared back into the bathroom.

“Long story,” Anna replied.  She had in fact woken up in her car, at a deserted construction site outside of town.  She’d been redressed in her costume, minus her wig, its charred remains sitting in the passenger seat, along with the can of Dr. Sisaro’s no stick spray and the scanner.  Her skirt and vest sported similar damage; the fabric slightly charred and blackened, the parts the goo had been directly in contact with frayed and worn.  Her phone had been, as she’d expected, totally fried by the electricity, and she’d driven to a payphone, calling Macy.

“I lost my phone, I just wanted to let you know I’m alright.  I’m gonna get Slimeball tonight, but I could use your help afterwards.”

“Anything you need, name it.”

“Thanks, I’m probably going to need you to hose me off.”

“The slime?” Macy asked.

“Worse,” Anna replied, tucking the can into her belt.  “I’ll explain later.  This hopefully won’t take long.”

“Be careful Anna.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Anna said with a forced laugh.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No, don’t answer that.  Please.  I’ll keep you updated.”

“Good luck.  Love you sis.”

“Love you too.”

Macy hung up the phone.  She set her phone on the sink and turned the shower back on, stripping off the towel.

Ellen knocked lightly on the door.  “Everything all right babe?” she asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Your sister I take it?”

“Yeah,” Macy responded, getting back in the shower to finish rising off.

“Macy, don’t take this the wrong way, but your sister’s a little weird, isn’t she?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”



Charlie Mason, currently more commonly known as Slimeball, was walking down the street.  Initially, the nickname he was given by the press had annoyed him, but it was starting to grow on him.  He had after all taken on a bona fide super heroine and walked away, leaving the dumb bitch all gunked up and helpless for the cops.  Even though he’d had to leave his score behind, he’d been in a good mood ever since.  Even the painful bruise across his throat was a war wound, a proud if somewhat painful reminder of his triumph.

He had a grungy hoody on, the hood pulled tightly over his head, recently stolen headphones plugged into a pilfered iPod stuffed in his ears, blasting the Beastie Boys.  He didn’t hear the faint beeping noise coming from behind him as Siren closed in on him.

He did however notice the green and red shape moving behind him in the reflection on a side view mirror of a car as he was walking past.  He tensed up, but kept walking, watching the reflections on windows and the shadows, growing and shrinking under the passing street lamps, out of the corners of his eyes.

He passed another truck with its side view mirror positioned perfectly, the mirror advertising that his pursuer was larger than she appeared, when he spun, his throat opening up and firing a blob of slime directly at Siren.  Scoring another direct hit across her face.

“I don’t know how you got out of my slime, but I’m going to put you in the ground this time bitch, and there won’t be any cops to save your ass.”

Siren ran her hands across the slime covering her face, helping it to slide off faster and fall to the sidewalk with a wet squelch.

His eyes went wide as he watched her shake her hands off.  “How the…”  He didn’t finish, snapping into action as he realized she not only had just shrugged off his slime like, well, like water off a duck’s back, but her voice was decidedly not disabled.  He spit into his hands, forming two little balls of goo, which he slapped over each of his ears, sealing the headphones inside.

Siren smiled.  “Oh relax.  I put up with way too much to just tell you to turn yourself in buddy.  I’m dragging your ass in, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”

Slimeball shrugged, unable to hear her over “Sabotage.”  He fired another blast of slime at her.  Siren batted it out of the air with the back of her hand, the blob splattering against a fire hydrant.

She knew she should end this, rather than leaving a piles of dangerous goo lying all over the place.  But taking out a little bit of frustration on this scum as he put up a fight, that seemed so much more gratifying.

Slimeball took one more look at the heroine standing confidently in front of him, and turned and ran.

“Yeah, you better run,” she said, taking off after him.

He cut into an alley, jumping over trashcans before he vaulted over a chain-link fence at the end of the alley.

Siren paused at the fence, panting.  “Right, blood loss makes you weak,” she reminded herself, jumping up and grabbing the top of the fence and hauling herself up over the top, dropping to the other side and resuming the chase.

Slimeball rammed into a car, looking back over his shoulder as Siren sprinted after him.  He’d thought several times that he’d lost her, but he’d turn around again and she’d be there, slowly gaining on him, occasionally screaming at people to get inside whenever their chase got near civillians.

He rolled over the hood of a car, Siren attempting to slide across the hood after him, the no stick spray, evidently also lowering her friction as she glided across the hood and crashed onto the street on the other side.  She cursed, rubbing her bruised tailbone as she got up and started running again.

He spit two more blobs of slime at her, hoping to at least slow her down, but she dodged the first one and wiped the second effortlessly off of her chest.

He turned to run again, stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk.  Siren dove into a flying tackle, sending Slimeball sprawling.

He rolled over, kicking back at her, his foot connecting with her head and shoulders.  Siren brought her hands up, blocking his kicks until she was able to catch one of his flailing legs.  She twisting the foot in her grasp, making him cry out in pain.  His other leg shot out, striking her in the temple, forcing her to let go.

He scrambled to his feet, limping slightly.  Siren pulled herself up after him, adjusting her mask.

Slimeball wrinkled his nose, the smell of what he’d earlier suspected had been garbage from running through the alleyways getting stronger.  “What is that smell?” he asked, his voice excessively loud over the headphones now blaring “Fight For Your Right.”

He still couldn’t hear her when she responded that it was indeed she that smelled so bad.  Dr. Sisaro’s spray smelled like, in her words, someone had tried to cover up the smell of skunk with every variety of Axe body spray ever.  But as bad as it smelled, she had to admit it worked, and worked well.

She charged him again.  Desperate, Slimeball fired another ball of slime at her.  It caught her across the face again, right over her eyes this time.  The slime didn’t stick to her face, but still got stuck in a few strands of her wig that must not have gotten throughly coated in the nonstick spray.  She’d deliberated on not even wearing another wig, but was glad she had, even if this one was now ruined as well, as it had protected her real hair.

Slimeball stepped to the side, his arm out to clothesline the blinded heroine as she continued to sprint full speed at him.

Siren ripped the entire wig off at the last second, grabbing his arm and using it to pivot, her momentum carrying her up and around, her legs wrapping around his throat as she brought him to the ground, hard.

“Spit on me now, jackass,” she said, her powerful thighs crushing his windpipe until he passed out.  

“Ugh, I do stink,” she muttered, noting just how much worse it got when she stayed still for a moment, the stench cloying around her.



“Yo Merrick, we’re getting calls that Siren is chasing someone down on Black Creek Road,” Sally, the dispatch officer, called across the bullpen.  

“Seriously?” Detective Merrick asked, getting up from his desk.

“Yes, I don’t usually mention it for just one call like this, but this is the third-” the phone rang again, interrupting her.  “Sec,” she said, holding up her finger.  “911, what’s your emergency.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yes ma’am, we’re looking into it.”

“Thanks for calling.”

She hung up the phone.  “Sorry, that’s the fourth call.  And this woman said the guy she was chasing was spitting shit at her.”

Merrick grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, putting it on.  “Thanks Sally, I’m on my way, put out a call for anyone in the area to approach with extreme caution.”

“Yes sir,” Sally responded, picking up the phone.

The door to the precinct slammed open.  Siren stood in the frame, dragging the unconscious Slimeball behind her.

Merrick and the two other officers grabbed their guns.  “Freeze,” they all shouted in unison.  “Put your hands up.”

“No thanks.  Put your guns down boys,” she said, dragging Slimeball into the precinct.  

They obeyed, eyeing her warily.  She had commandeered Slimeball’s hoody; the hood pulled over her head, concealing her real haircut, one that Merrick would probably recognize.  

“What’s that smell?  Is that him?” one of the uniformed cops asked.  Sally dry heaved as the smell wafted through the room.

Siren gave them both a dirty look.  “That’s the smell of success.”  She looked pointedly at Merrick.  “That is the smell of someone willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done.  I got your guy, arrest him, read him his rights and all that.  He spits that goo out of his neck, so you may want to get some sort of collar or something before he wakes up.  Oh, and if you get any on you, electricity makes it fall right off.”  Siren slammed the unconscious burglar into a desk.

They stared at her, dumbfounded.  “Well, don’t just stand there gawking, do your jobs.  I can’t do everything.”

One of the cops leapt up, pulling out his cuffs.  Siren turned, heading back for the door.  She remembered what Macy had said about her getting into a petty competition with the cops.  She paused at the door, groaning inwardly at what she was going to do next.  “Great job last night by the way, great response time.  You guys really saved my ass.”  Not waiting for a response, she pushed open the door and left.

The two uniforms and dispatch stared at Merrick.  “Should we call this in, or go after her?” one of them asked.

Merrick sighed.  “No, let her go.  She did us a big favor tonight.  Besides, I don’t know what that smell was, but I don’t want it sitting in lock up all night.  Let’s get some windows open and a fan going.  And get a collar on that guy’s throat before he wakes up.”



“How are you even breathing?” Macy asked, blasting Siren with a hose.  Siren was wearing just her scale mail armor, attempting to scrub the spray and accompanying stench off of it.

“I’m not if you keep spraying me in the mouth,” she shot back, holding a hand up to block the freezing water, coughing.

Macy let up on the hose, leaving her sister wet and shivering in the cool night air.  “Can we burn the rest of this?” she pointed at Siren’s skirt and vest and butchered wig.

“No, don’t destroy them, but I do think it’s time they were replaced.”

“Ooh, costume redesign!  Let me design your next costume.  Please.”

“I like my costume…”

“Anna, I love you, but it’s eight years old.  It’s starting to get a bit dated.  You have to replace the skirt and vest anyways.”

“I know, it’s just, that design has sentimental value.”

“Oh right, that was Callie’s design.”

“It’s fine.  You’re right, it might be time for a change.”

“Yay!” Macy ran up to her sister, stopping short.  “Oh, you still smell terrible.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going away anytime soon.”

“Maybe a tomato bath?” Macy suggested.

“I don’t care, I just want to go to sleep.”  Anna shook water out of her hair, picking up the pieces of her ruined uniform, heading towards her apartment.  “I gotta be half awake tomorrow so I can keep my damn job.”