Part One:
,Part Two:
,Part Three:
,Part Four:
,With deft strokes of her eraser, she removed the janitor's head. The cartoon writhed, groping at its empty stump of a neck in rising panic until she scribbled in its canine replacement, filling the new head with animal obedience and the instinct to hunt.
"Bring him back to me alive. In pieces if needed, but alive!" she commanded, and the creature scurried from the paper, bounding from painting to painting in pursuit of its prey.
She waited. As the hours passed with no return of her creation, her nervousness grew. With so many images in the world in which to hide, she needed more.
She went for a night walk, paintbrush in hand. A man leered at her outside a cinema. She forced him back, kicking and screaming, into a movie poster, repainting his trapped form into something more servile. A drunk stumbled past her on the street. With a splatter of paint, his body was sucked into the label of his beer bottle. She wasn't able to retrieve him before he rolled along the sidewalk into a drain. No matter. There were plenty of other men for turning into mindless minions.
"Got any spare change?" a homeless man called to her.
She didn't even have to touch him. Just a glare and the man liquified into his own bedding of newspaper, soaking into the pages. She lifted him out, smoothing out the creases of his paper body on her knee. Crouching in the alley to keep the rain from smudging him too much, she redrew him. Sharp claws for killing, a powerful simian body, and wide wings for maneuverability.
"How is that for a change, my pet?" she laughed. Some might even have called it a cackle. "Now go! Do my bidding! Fly, my pretty. Fly!"
She'd never used her powers in such rapid succession. Five in one day! She'd always been so careful to space them out for fear of being caught, but each one now was a rush of euphoria. She could feel herself growing stronger. Reality itself seemed to groan and creak in protest as she stalked the streets in search of her next victim. She felt unstoppable.