VELVETEEN vs. A Potential Happy Ending #3
Polychrome pulled away, turning to stare at the woman who was standing in the lake.
No, not in the lake: on the lake, her feet resting on the surface of the water like it was solid ground.
She was dark-skinned and full-figured, with soft sloe eyes that it would be easy to drown in.
She wasn’t naked, but was dressed in a winding sheet of lake water filled with tiny darting catfish that constantly rearranged themselves, yet continually seemed to be placed so as to provide a measure of modesty.
“Ellie?” asked Polychrome. “Are you…are you really back?”
“No one gives status reports to the lake around here,” said Ellie—also known as the hero Lake Pontchartrain.
“Back home, the mother lake, people tell her all sort of things. Go down to the bank and say they’ve found a lover, or they’re expecting, or they have to move away.
Guess I was expecting someone to tell me when it was safe to come out of the water. ”
“Safe how?” asked Victory Anna.
“Can’t go home until I know I won’t be followed, and that no one’s coming for the babies anymore,” said Ellie.
“Can’t do that. We let it go on for too long, and I joined this fight on the rabbit’s side because I needed to know the children would be left alone.
Now, when you say they’re set up to take care of the kids, you mean—”
“I mean we have a system in place to allow superpowered children to remain with their parents while receiving the necessary training to control their abilities—without corporate brainwashing.”
Ellie smiled, even as the lake beneath her feet receded, pulling into her body and disappearing. “Then I guess we’re all going home,” she said, and Polychrome smiled, and the world was changing.
* * *
Five years…
The wedding of the American Dream and the Night Shift was the social event of the season, largely because it had required so much involvement from The Super Patriots, Inc.
’s legal team that they needed to recoup the costs somehow.
Since the American Dream had never been born, manifesting out of the collective hopes and desires of the citizenry, and the Night Shift was technically multiple people, their union had required changes to the way marriage licenses were issued, along with the legalization of polyamorous marriages.
Half the nation was overjoyed, the other half was profoundly offended, and what they had initially planned as a small, intimate wedding was only slightly less of a production than The Super Patriots On Ice.
The guest list was large enough that screens had been installed to project the ceremony to the rear of the audience, which had been set up on the lawn outside Super Patriots Headquarters.
The green was surprisingly expansive after several years of having Lake Pontchartrain covering the bulk of it, and even with the hydromancer gone, the grass had continued to grow lush and verdant.
It made a beautiful backdrop for the remarkably traditional wedding decorations, white draperies and garlands of red roses mixed with blue cornflowers and white carnations.
If it seemed a bit more patriotic than the average wedding, well, that was for the cameras.
The Night Shift had known what she was getting herselves into when she agreed to the union.
Every weather manipulator in the region had been called in to make sure the sky would stay a perfect blue, studded with picturesque clouds.
Even some independents had been hired for the day, managing the weather in a twenty-mile radius with the skill and precision of a college marching band director.
Not a single errant gust of wind was going to disrupt the happy day.
Action Dude walked along the outer edges of the decorated area, trying to avoid the reporters moving through the crowd with microphones and pens in hand, looking for their next exclusive.
He wasn’t as interesting as he’d been when he was engaged to Sparkle Bright, but reporters who got close to him had a tendency to smell blood in the water, picking up on the vague aura of discontent that he carried everywhere he went.
Really, it was enough to make him consider following Polychrome to Portland…
although he couldn’t imagine joining a regional team including both of his ex-girlfriends would be any more pleasant than staying where he was.
Despite the shocking density of media invited to the wedding, there were still independent reporters and over-excited gossip bloggers looking for a secret scoop.
He’d been catching and throwing drones out of the sky above the yard since morning.
Maybe that was why he looked up when he caught the flicker of metallic motion out of the corner of his eye, turning his face skyward just in time to see the drone slam into a flying woman with a luminous cloud of hair surrounding her head, cycling slowly through the colors of the sunset.
The drone bounced off her forehead before shakily adjusting its flight path. The woman…fell.
Action Dude was in the air before he finished processing what he’d seen, snatching the falling woman out of the air and cradling her to his chest. She was light as a cloud, skin cool in a way he would have called clammy in almost anyone else.
She was also bleeding copiously from a gash on her forehead, and her eyes were closed.
Action Dude only looked at her for a second before spinning and flying toward the bridal pavilion, careful to stay slow enough that he wouldn’t hurt her through speed alone.
Resistance to damage from acceleration and deceleration was normally only found in heroes whose abilities included some form of superspeed, and while he could guess she was a weather manipulator from her location and hair, he hadn’t seen anything to indicate that she could fly faster than she could run.
Flying in with a bleeding, unconscious woman in his arms was basically a guaranteed way to make sure the media swarmed him.
Action Dude ignored them all, marching into the pavilion where the Night Shift was getting ready for her moment at the altar.
She didn’t need any attendants: she had more than enough hands all by herself.
There were currently seventeen iterations of her in the room, fixing one another’s makeup, doing one another’s hair, and, as he entered, rushing toward the door to take the woman out of his arms.
“What happened?” asked a Night Shift.
“Midair drone collision,” he said, allowing three instances of the Night Shift to remove the weather manipulator. “Civilian drone, I assume. The traditional media is smart enough not to violate our airspace, and the government would fly better. Is she going to be all right?”
“We have her now,” said the Night Shift. “She’s going to be just fine. Some of me may need to change our dresses, but she’s going to be fine.”
“Thank you,” said Action Dude. He turned, leaving the tent without another word.
Once outside, he was promptly swarmed by reporters.
He ignored them all, scanning the sky until he spotted the wobbling speck of the damaged drone.
Launching himself into the air, he streaked toward it, intercepting it easily.
He grasped it with both hands, turning it in the air until he could look into the open lens of its camera.
“Hello,” he said. “I’m guessing you have a live microphone on this thing. Is that right?”
The camera lens hesitantly irised shut, then open again, acknowledging his words. Action Dude nodded thoughtfully.
“Good,” he said. “That makes this easier. Were you aware that injuring a superhuman in the pursuit of their duties is a federal offense? That weather manipulator you knocked out of the sky was doing her job. If she dies, you could be in an incredible amount of trouble.”
The drone’s lens irised again, then spread wide.
“Fortunately for you, the Night Shift has taken time out of their busy wedding day to see to her injuries, and we’re hoping she’ll make a full recovery.
I just wanted you to know that if she doesn’t, I will find you.
Mechanimation will be able to use the remains of your drone to track you down, and then you’re going to answer to me. ”
He forced his hands together, crushing the drone into a thin sheet of metal as efficiently as an industrial compactor. Looking down to be sure no one was directly beneath him, he let the remains of the drone fall, then flew more slowly back toward the wedding proper.
Most of the seats were filled, even the reporters’ attention fixed raptly on the altar.
The American Dream was waiting there in their suit of red, white, and blue, and as Action Dude drifted down into his position, he saw two instances of the Night Shift come walking down the aisle with bouquets in their hands.
One of them winked to him as they took their places.
Three more instances of the Night Shift followed, and behind them, a fourth, this one dressed in a gown out of a fairy tale dream.
It was lacy, layered, and dripping with rhinestones and pearls.
Every inch of it glittered and gleamed. Three more of her followed after that, carrying her train.
All the Night Shifts save for the one in the gown scattered as another popped up to hand her the bouquet, and she stepped up to the altar across from the American Dream, the two heroes exchanging shy, besotted smiles.
The officiant began reading from his book, and Action Dude stopped paying attention until they had both said “I do” and the gathered heroes and civilians broke into applause.
As they left their chairs to head for the reception, an iteration of the Night Shift sidled up to Action Dude. “She’s fine and awake,” she said softly. “We’ve invited her to the reception. I’m sure she’d like to thank you when we all get there.”