Story #116 - RG

RG

You think it's so easy being a superhero? Tell you what – we'll find a way to give you my powers for a day, and you tell me how great it is, how easy it is, and just how much you love it.

Before we do that, though - you mind giving me a hand here?

Fine, fine – I'll explain.

Look, there are worse things than being Reactive Girl, the city's most notorious hero and the only one with any real “powers” to speak of. I love Captain Justice, Ronnie Right and the Liberation Twins, but none of them are actually “super” by nature. CJ carries around a giant laser gun he built in his basement – non-lethal, but painful as you can imagine – and RR has taken the time to get his body into fine fighting form. The Twins are about misdirection; they look so similar that they can easily confuse baddies and end up winning a lot battles by virtue of the fact that their enemies didn't know which way to turn.

No tricks for me, though – I'm the real deal.

It's all in the name, and I figured it was appropriate after I discovered just how my powers worked. Nobody else managed to click in, which was great for me, since I didn't really want to explain.

The whole thing started with a boy I liked. Tall, handsome, strong – Josh Dremel was everything I thought I wanted when I was fifteen. He seemed to like me back, much to my surprise, and we went on a few awkward dates. Around date three or so he finally got up the nerve to kiss me, and I let him, but when he went to put his hand under my shirt I told him “no”. That fell on deaf ears, so I grabbed his hand and moved it away.

Well, big Josh didn't take too well to that, and the next thing I knew, he had slapped me across the face. I swung back, and put his head through the driver side window of his car. He came out lucky; only his pride was really injured, but he kept his mouth shut about the whole thing. I had no idea what happened, at first, but as I got older and the world got more violent, I figured it out.

Mom got a new boyfriend just before I turned eighteen, one that had a real mean temper if his day didn't go right. I told mom to leave the scumbag, but she was lonely, and ended up taking way too much of what he dished out. I ignored him, but one night mom wasn't around and he decided he needed a new punching bag. He caught me in the hallway outside of my bedroom and whacked me hard in the side of the head; I sent him flying down the hall and off of the stairs with a light tap to the chest.

I started to get it.

I'd been trying ever since the Josh incident to drum up whatever powers were latent with in me – I took martial arts classes, did yoga, and learned to balance my mind and body – all to no avail. The scumbag helped me sort it out; my power was dependent on what people did to me; whatever they did, I could return ten-fold.

Reactive Girl was born.

At first, I just thought it was cool to have a secret identity but didn't do much with it. After a few botched attempts I made myself a snazzy green costume, one form-fitting enough that it was clear I was a female, but not so tight that I felt like I was showing off the goods to everyone who came by. Once I had my own place I started going out at night, skulking around and pretending like I was making a difference.

Finally, I found a crime in progress – a home invasion – and decided to get my feet wet. I barged in, screaming something archaic and ridiculous, and the three burly men that had tied up the homeowner and were looting his place just turned and laughed. I shoved the nearest one lightly, and he decked me, hard. Once I could see straight again I slugged him back and sent him tumbling end over end. Throwing a few kicks in the next one's direction, I played with him until he managed to smack me, then tossed him out the front window. The third one saw how his luck was going and ran, and I quickly untied the homeowner. He was grateful enough, but seemed more scared of me than the other three, as if I was somehow going to pick up where they left off.

Fighting crime comes with precious few rewards.

Of course, my notoriety led to others of “my kind” coming out of the woodwork, fakers with good hearts but no real powers, and the birth of super-villains, the kind that love to do nothing but taunt heroes like me.

It was the note from Maestro Malefic that got me here today; he had my mother.

All was going to plan; I showed up at the designated meeting spot, he hauled out mom for me to see and confirm she was alright, and then he had two lackeys hustle her into a van and start to drive off. I moved quickly; my speed a result of training, not power, and wondered just how much of a beating I was going to take today.

Malefic smacked me across the jaw and the sprinted away, jumping into the van as it pulled out into the street, I grinned. It wasn't just strength I could react to; anything done within about ten seconds after a touch I could use, and that included speed.

I followed the van through the city and up into the hills. I was fast enough to keep up with it, but not strong enough to do anything about it, and I didn't want to force it off of the road – my mother was in there!

On a deserted rocky road, the thing pulled a sharp turn and the side door flew open. I couldn't stop, nor did I have any plans to, and I soared into the van. Liquid met me as I fell, and I saw a lid snap down over me as I struggled to get out.

“Reactive Girl,” came Malefic's voice, “very clever name, young lady, but I suspect you'll find it hard to use your powers in a sensory deprivation chamber.”

He was right; I couldn't feel a damn thing, and even my speed was draining.

Yeah, being a superhero is great.

- D