Saint Joseph School

The two metahumans faced each other. The elder looked rather frustrated. The younger just looked bored.

Moltar spoke first. "First tobacco, now alcohol. Miss Smith, you're 16, not 21. Do you even care that you're on probation?"

"Miss Smith" idly checked the hem of her skirt for loose threads. "Not especially." She spent ten hours a week getting shot at; she didn't enjoy it but it definitely put any threats a mere nun could throw at her into perspective.

"And according to your teachers you have yet to turn in an assignment. Are you aware of what will happen if this continues?"

Oh, she was. That's why she was smiling to herself. This was her third disciplinary hearing since she came to Saint Joe's, but this time she was in total control of this meeting.

She'd figured it all out. Whether Moltar liked it or not, whether MAGI liked it or not, hell, whether she liked it or not, Elly was the Spark Princess. She'd done a little research (okay, she'd sat through a boring briefing at Azuria's insistence) and apparently the heroine had been around for at least as long as MAGI, likely longer. And very few were the wiser that every so often she dropped dead and was replaced. Elly had taken on the mantle of a symbol. Among the Chinese population of Paragon, she might actually be bigger than Captain Jingo out there on his carrier. (Little did they know that she spent all but ten hours a week as white trash.)

So what'd that mean? It meant that MAGI didn't dare cut off Elly for less than a felony, so long as she kept putting in her time as a weekend warrior and looked heroic for the duration. Say she got expelled. Hell, that would be ideal. MAGI might find her another school, but it wouldn't be Catholic with all the restrictions. And they'd have to find her new housing. Or they'd just put pressure on Saint Joe's to let her do her own thing outside those ten hours.

"Miss Smith, are you listening?"

"Why Sister, whatever gives you the idea you don't have my full attention?" Huh. Lint. She plucked it.

"Then it doesn't bother you that I've spoken directly to Azuria?"

Nope, it didn't. She said so.

"Good, because she's decided to increase your community service time as an punishment for failing to perform to school standards."

"...wait, what!? Over me getting sloshed on my own time?"

"No, over the Spark Princess getting sloshed on her own time. You really were out of it that night, weren't you? You walked in there as the anonymous Eleanor Smith, but it was a blatantly eyecatching winged girl in a pink motif that had to be carried out three hours later. There were about twenty patrons who remember that far better than you, and you should feel lucky that only two actually saw you transform."

...oh shit. Had she really done that? This was bad on several levels.

"MAGI is running damage control on this one, but they're furious about what you've done to the name of the Spark Princess, and they've agreed that the best course of action is to keep you too busy to get in trouble. You now owe thirty hours a week, effective immediately and until your probation is complete."

"THIRTY?!"

"And if you violate your probation again, be it smoking, drinking, missing another assignment or class -- and we're adding 'setting foot in an establishment that serves alcohol,' Pocket D included..."

"No D? You can't--!"

"Avoid future violations and embarrassments, and we'll consider removing that limitation; until then MAGI doesn't want you near alcohol. And any punishment will include another increase to your hours. Consider it a kind of detention, Miss Smith. I'm normally against the idea of forcing students into potential danger, but you're already a hazard to yourself, not to mention a bad influence on the other students, so I'll accept whatever's necessary to make you civil."

Elly fell back to her last line of defense. "I do thirty and I won't have time for all my classwork!"

This seemed to give Sister Moltar pause. Then she responded before Elly had time to look properly smug. "If that proves the case, I can talk to Azuria about making some of your time 'public appearances.' Perhaps you can attend class or lunch as the Princess."

"...you won't--"

"Try me, Miss Smith."

Ten minutes ago she would have. Moltar couldn't make her do anything. No one at Saint Joe's could. But MAGI sure as hell could: they could track the bracers anywhere, and they'd heavily implied they could switch them on and off from a distance if they needed to. Her entire strategy had centered around not doing anything they'd care about. Dammit, why'd she accept that third drink? Free alcohol or not, she knew her limit was two...

Satisfied at the silent fuming, Sister Moltar turned back to her papers. "You're dismissed, Miss Smith. Your history class starts in ten minutes; I suggest you not be late."

Elly gave the nun a look that would have turned sand to glass, then hefted her book bag and stormed out, wondering how she let things get out of control so fast.

Tobacco. She'd know that sweet smell of nicotine anywhere. Someone was daring to smoke on campus, which probably meant they'd found a hiding place the nuns didn't check.

Or they were daring idiots, which Elly couldn't rule out, but she'd take that risk. Definitely, up on the roof, they wouldn't get much notice; Elly still wouldn't have, even landing up there, if the wind direction hadn't been her way as she flew nearby. She landed, de-pinked, then followed her nose...

And found herself face to face with a nun.

A smoking nun.

This failed to fit her world view.

The nun looked up. "'Sup?"

That didn't fit either. But it was getting stupid now. She could handle aliens, time travelers, espers, and other godlike schoolgirls, but couldn't deal with a smoking punk nun? ...well, apparently not. "Uh, hey."

"How'd you get up here? Did I forget to lock the roof access behind me? No, wait, you probably flew or jumped up or something. Don't know why we even bother trying to keep people off the roof given who we're up against."

"I guess..." Nope, still couldn't handle it. Nuns were uptight bitches who took the job because they'd realized they had no chance of getting laid ever. This had to be some mature-looking student in disguise, had to be.

"Sorry, where are my manners." The Elly-ish nun shifted her cigarette to her left hand and offered her right. "Sister Mary Salvation. Assistant school librarian."

"...Okay." Elly shook. Hell, not like she ever went to the library. It could be... no, no way.

Salvation smiled without letting go. "That's your cue to give your name."

She suspected a trap, but it was either answer or kick her. "Elly."

"Miss Eleanor Smith. I thought I felt metal under your sleeve."

Elly yanked her hand free. "How do you know about that?" seemed like a stupid and cliche question, so she shot off a "What's it to you?" instead.

The nun answered the first question instead. "Oh, all the staff knows about you by now. One of our big 'problem students.' Dragged into your role kicking and screaming, because someone upstairs..." She raised her eyes briefly, then leveled them back at Elly. "...or wherever, thought it was time to make something of you and wouldn't take no for an answer. Well, that's The Man for you."

There was only one appropriate response to that. "Fuck off."

"Not allowed to anymore."

Elly stared. If she'd somehow wound up a nun librarian, probably due to a freak chemical accident of some kind, and was dealing with an obnoxious student, that was exactly the response she would have given. She was facing herself in a penguin suit. "You sure you're a nun?"

"Kindred spirit, I suppose. You think I wanted to wear monochrome all my life?"

"Take it off then."

"The Man frowns on public nudity too."

"Dammit, you know what I mean! Quit!"

"That's what you want me to say, don't you? 'It's okay to run away, take the easy road'? Well, you can't always get what you want, as the great philosopher Richards once said. Things track you down when you try that. Shit happens."

"So you're going to BS something about how I should enjoy my destiny, then?"

"Hell no! It sucks! But you either live with it... or you don't."

She seemed satisfied with that excuse for a motivational speech. Elly looked on in disbelief. Salvation just took another drag.

Just how stupid did Smith think he was, anyway?

That thought actually irked Magus Tor far more than the call itself. His number was unlisted; he knew everyone who knew it, and only one of them was philistine enough to make a prank call at all, let alone at four in the morning.

Let Smith think he had gone through some elaborate ritual to track the call to her. He could have, but the process would have taken nearly an hour and required more coherency than he had on two hours of sleep. Remotely triggering the bracers, on the other hand, took only long enough to put his head in order. He'd had that spell prepped for months, knowing sooner or later he'd have the excuse to use it, and he was glad for the chance to make an immediate impression on her. If it had turned out that against all odds Smith was innocent, that would mean she would be in bed like all proper students and would sleep through both the transformation and the correction. But no, a conventional phone trace had verified the call had come from the cell phone of another Saint Joseph's attendee, which was all the evidence he needed to leave the spell operating.

With a little luck and the (in)correct reaction from the girl, this could have put her out of his hair altogether. But there she was waiting in the MAGI lobby, humbled if impatient, as he'd ordered.

Well, he might still be able to end this today. He decided to let her sit for another hour while he handled some paperwork. Subtle and quick to anger, indeed.

***

Elly had known instantly who was responsible for her stuck state, and had gone straight to the MAGI offices first thing the next day. Where she'd been told "Magus Tor doesn't come in on Sundays; have you tried his personal line?" (she had, five times, he wasn't answering), which was when she realized he planned to leave her like this all #^%$ing day, so she'd stormed off and vented her frustration on some evil clowns who looked almost as silly as she felt.

She was now on 27 straight hours of Princess-dom. She'd made attempts to at least change clothes, but no good: the belt was one solid piece, the blouse couldn't be pulled off over the wings, and the boots were as good as molded around her legs. The whole mess even dulled a pair of scissors. (Elly'd noticed more than once in the past that the costume looked pristine and unstained even after she'd been fighting for hours. @%^#ing thing resisted damage better than the contents.) About all she'd managed to do was hack the braid loops off, leaving her with a sloppy pink version of her usual haircut.

And now she was standing in front of the bastard who had left her like this over a harmless damn prank, and she was the one who was going to have to say...

"I'm sorry."

"'Sir.'"

"...I'm sorry, sir."

"For?"

"The prank call last night."

"Which call would that be?"

She gritted her perfect teeth. "The one where I pretended to be--"

"'Poorly impersonated,'" Tor "corrected."

"....poorly impersonated a member of the Midnight Squad."

"And why was that call ill-advised?"

Because you're a humorless shithead, but one who can destroy my life even more than you already have. "Because I disturbed your sleep."

"A full night of which is very important for any mystic to have. Also?"

"'Also'...?"

"Also one should not impersonate a member of a respectable heroic organization."

"...Yeah. That." If they were as "respectable" as MAGI, especially Tor, it would have been a step down anyway.

"So once again, you are..."

"...very sorry. Sir."

Tor looked Elly over, considering. "...I'm unconvinced of your sincerity. Come back tomorrow so I can be sure."

Golden eyes widened. "...WHAT?! I apologized! We had a--"

"We had no 'deal.' If you'll recall my message, I ordered you to my office to apologize, period. And although I appreciate you actually obeying your mentor for once, you will have your own dull looks back only when I decide."

She was going to do it. She was going to point a bracer at that smug-ass face, and he'd be a smoking, writhing mess on the floor. It'd be nicely ironic. Her fist clenched. Long pink fingernails dug into her palm...

"Was there something else?" He smiled pleasantly.

...he wanted her to fire. It was written all over his face. He'd expected this. Which meant he could have, would have set up any number of defenses Elly wouldn't even recognize until every last volt bounced off them. And then what? She'd be a meta who'd attacked a MAGI official. How many years in the Zig would that get her?

"...absolutely nothing, sir."

She caught slight disappointment on his face just before she turned and walked out. @&#$er. She'd get him somehow. On her terms.

Saturday evening

Stupid, stupid, stupid! With all the recent costume confusion, on top of the cheer tryouts, she'd been getting absent-minded, and then after the Rikti decided to crash the beach party she'd just blindly followed the partygoers as they relocated. To the D. Which was still strictly forbidden for her. It had taken her two hours and mention of drinks before she'd remembered that. #^$%ing stupid!

She'd gotten the hell out immediately. Maybe MAGI had been between checks and hadn't noticed. Oh please, they caught you on the prank call in less than two minutes. Maybe they wouldn't care? She hadn't had anything to drink this time, right? Not even water! It's Tor. He'll bust you on it anyway.

Goddammit. It'd been eight months since they'd let her set foot in there! Was a little fun too much to ask? Apparently, yes.

****

Saturday night

"You have today's report on Miss Smith ready?" Magus Tor looked at his acolyte dryly, a sarcastic "this is as always the highlight of my day" unvoiced.

"Yes sir. She reported patrolling from 10 to 5 today, largely dealing with short-term emergencies in Peregrine; our regular checks verified this. She was also in Talos during the Rikti strike noted at 7:54 pm, although that was apparently coincidence; the bracers weren't activated until the first ships were sighted, and until then she was in the boardwalk area for at least an hour."

"What was she doing there?" Tor leaned forward suspiciously.

"...It is summer, sir. Teenagers flock to that area regularly this time of year. Beach parties, swimming, the stores on the pier..."

"Hm. Make sure she's keeping up with her schoolwork. The way we work her she shouldn't have time for play. Keep going."

"After the strike was fended, she briefly returned to campus, then... er..." The acolyte didn't look eager to announce the next part. "...she was next apparently in the 'Pocket D' plane for--"

It was hard to tell whether Tor's expression was outrage or pleasure as he rose. Maybe he was pleased at being outraged. "Did that tramp get drunk again?"

"...apparently not, sir. We asked the bartenders, and they all acknowledge a small group of teenagers entering at about the time described but deny serving any of them alcohol. We asked about the Princess's description in particular -- both her descriptions," he hastened to add off Tor's look. "And we followed up on all incidents of female drunkenness reported during the two hours she was there; none were her."

Any of that pleasure had faded. "...she's still not allowed in that area. Especially for two whole hours. She's well aware of that. I'll activate her as soon as I finish tonight's work; I'll decide for how long later. Probably at least a week this time. You can tell her that when she comes in begging forgiveness on Monday."

****

Sunday morning

Elly woke up to the distinct sensation of silk and feathers. A flex of muscles in her back that weren't on normal humans confirmed it. Okay, don't panic. You've been changing in your sleep more often recently, this could be that...

Yeah, and if it turns out this is the usual punishment again, the red is an improvement... her brain added snidely. She closed her eyes and muttered.

And with a flash, she felt only cotton again. The weight of the wings had vanished.

Well. Okay. She tentatively got up, examining herself for the punchline. Maybe she'd turned into a goblin now. No, the mirror said she was just Elly Smith. Did MAGI really not notice?

There's a certain point in every child's life when they begin to suspect Santa can't possibly be checking whether they're naughty or nice 24/7. Elly was starting to form a similar epiphany. She was dead wrong in the case of MAGI; Tor and his staff actually had very little better to do (he certainly wasn't going to spend the time training such an obstinate brat), but that fact was about to become irrelevant.

A smile formed on Elly's face. It had just been one of her usual dream-shifts. MAGI hadn't noticed. For all their boasted power, they really hadn't noticed. So long as she didn't make an obvious nuisance of herself, she could still do whatever the hell she wanted! She'd be careful for a couple days, just in case they were taking the weekend off, but if nothing happened, not even a phone call... That changed everything!

It did.

****

Monday night

"So, did you tell her I expected extra hours out of her this week?"

"Sir? The Princess... didn't come in."

Tor stared. "She's been stuck in the 'on' position for 48 hours now, and she hasn't come in?"

"No sir."

"...so, she wants to play the waiting game with us this time. Foolish of her. I won't lose anything by leaving her like that until Ragnarok if she wants to be stubborn about it. She'll come in pleading sooner or later. Let me know if she starts disgracing the Princess line while like that, other than that, let's consider this a vacation."