Monthly Archives: March 2012

Time To Act

Moonshine and I have gotten back to our patrolling now. After a couple weeks or so of visiting her mom, she’s decided she’s ready to go back on patrol. We just got over a more or less average new moon depression, which she’s recovering from by punching bad guys with me. It’s nice. Not quite as nice as hearing her read. But still nice.

We haven’t been able to find anything on the Hypno-Terrorist and I haven’t been able to figure out where I know him from. He goes around in this monochromatic getup with a sweater vest and that swirly thing you see associated with hypnotism every now and then on the front of it. Horn-rimmed glasses to match, like the x-ray glasses in old comic books.

We haven’t even had a physical confrontation with him yet. The police either report him several days late or not at all, but I guess I should be surprised he’s not making them not report him at all. The media is the same. Even that radio show I mentioned seems to have been put on hold because of him. He may not even exist. It’s hard to keep track of all the villains in this city now. All the ones who are actually a threat, anyway.

Dr. Synergy, Bound Radical, Fleshmonger, the Hypno-Terrorist, maybe Daddy Issue. We even have a realtor who deals specifically in supervillain lairs now! Toxic Assets. Whoever he is doesn’t seem to be all that much of a threat, though. Socialighter too, though she’s with Dr. Synergy last I checked.

I guess I should be glad Graphique, Silver Stiletto, and Graver are all pretty much gone. Though I haven’t seen Graver in the hospital over the past couple weeks, and it’s the same hospital. I guess I should be worried about it but I’m not. Sometimes things just get too much to be emotional about. And Discojack…Discojack completely disappeared after we put Graver in the hospital. I don’t even know what was up with him.

But I’m saying it now. It’s time to stop pussyfooting around and letting these villains roam around. I know it seems fun and all, it makes me feel like I’m living in a comic book to have all these villains with the potential for regular battles with. But it’s dangerous as shit. If I couldn’t heal myself up, Dr. Synergy would’ve killed me in our last encounter. Possibly left some more serious scars in the others.

All these fodder heroes around Spotlight City need to stop doing what they’re doing unless they have actual powers of some use. I know it seems like you’re helping, but it would be a totally not cool thing if you died while doing this.

As for Moonshine and I…our first task is Dr. fucking Synergy. He’s the most direct threat to me. We’re gonna go after him in the next couple days.

I haven’t been tweeting. Sorry about that. I just don’t feel like it much these days. I’ll try and do it more if I can.



So for the past couple days, I’ve been at the hospital with Moonshine’s mom. Remember how I said I wasn’t gonna go because I was a liar and a horrible friend? Yeah. I lied about that, apparently.

She managed to convince me to go with her. We’ve been seeing her mom every day. She’s got her own little room in the hospital where they check up on her and keep her company when Moonshine and I aren’t here. We stay there for a couple hours a day. I don’t say much. I don’t know what to say. I’m not much of a social person in situations like that. But it’s enough for Moonshine that I was there with her. She hasn’t said it but I can tell.

She stays there with her mom more often than she’s with me now. It’s because her mom is doing worse lately. The tumor’s getting bigger, faster than they had anticipated. I don’t want to be there. I don’t want to see her mom die. I don’t want to be reminded of what happened with mine. But I’m there anyway. I’m there for Moonshine, because she was there for me last year.

So I sit there every day now, listening to Moonshine read her mom Lolita and Ruby Justice comics. It’s nice, hearing her read like that. She has a really nice voice and she doesn’t use it much with me anymore. She’s never read anything to me.  I just so happen to like the stuff she’s reading too, so…bonus. I guess. I just wish the context was different. If we were at home and her mom wasn’t dying, I’d probably…

Well. Let’s talk about something else. Like patrolling! Which I haven’t actually been properly doing. I haven’t really felt like it. I know. I’m a superhero. I have superpowers! I shouldn’t let emotions or whatever get in the way of doing my job. But you know what? I may be a superhero but I am also a teenage girl and teenage girls have drama shit going on too. If I put on my outfit and went out to patrol for bad guys, somebody would probably end up dead. Again. And not in the cool way.

I can tell you this, though. It looks like Bound Radical and Dr. Synergy are gonna get into a fight with each other. Whatever, I hope they kill each other. Or at least I hope he kills Creepervy. That’s what I call Synergy. Well, I say “call”, but I really just started doing it as of that last line. I think it fits.

I haven’t heard from Fleshmonger in a while. Nobody has. He seems to have gone into hiding or super research mode or something. I still don’t have a tight grasp on what his deal entirely is, so I can’t say for sure. Maybe he does this all the time. Maybe he doesn’t.

The Hypno-Terrorist is important too. I’ve been hearing police reports about him lately. I haven’t gone by the station much if ever because I don’t particularly fancy the Barracuda, but we still have all these computers and stuff at home and we still make good use of them. Most of them are Moonshine’s doing. Some of them are her dad’s. Her disappeared dad, now. As for the Hypno-Terrorist, though, there’s something about him that I can’t really place that I know from somewhere. I don’t know what it is, but I get the weirdest feeling of deja vu whenever I hear something about him.

Knowing my life and knowing comic books, this is probably gonna bite me in the ass somehow. Just watch, he’ll come up and hypnotize the crap out of me every which way but north and I’ll lose my memory. Just like I said would happen in my first post! Though maybe this jinxes it so it doesn’t happen…nah, that never works with this crap.

Speaking of my first post, hard to believe that was only 20 posts ago. Doesn’t feel like it now. It feels like it’s been dozens and dozens of posts, but I guess that’s just what happens with time and whatnot. Weird time shit and all. Whatever.

To be honest, I’m kind of bored. I don’t really like it when things get all complex like they have been over February, but it’s better than…this. Better than nothing. Not nothing, this isn’t nothing. And parts of right now are nice, like the whole bit with Moonshine reading things, but…it’s not as much as it could be. Y’know?

Going Through The Motions


All I seem to talk about are nightmares and sadness here. A lot of my life has been those things lately. It wasn’t always this way, though. Before all the obsessive freaks and the walking 70s and 90s stereotypes, before Moonshine’s mom got brain cancer, before her dad disappeared, Moonshine and I were actually pretty happy once.

I just woke up from another nightmare. Another all-expenses-paid guilt-trip, courtesy of my conscience. I’m not gonna talk about it. I’m tired of this blog being nothing but my silly little angst all the time. I’m just gonna say that it involved what happened with Dr. Synergy the other day. You know the “painting” he mentioned in his blog? It wasn’t a painting. And you know the red paint he mentioned? It wasn’t fucking paint.

The next time I see him, I’m not gonna hold back for the sake of mercy. He needs to be dealt with. So the next time I see him, I’m gonna stop pussying around and deal with him already. I swear.

Meanwhile. Happy things! Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens! I don’t actually like either of those things. Rain, yes. Cats, hell yes. I wish I had a cat. I wish I had someone around the headquarters when Moonshine’s not here. Like right now. I’m glad she’s not off getting drunk again, but she’s still gone. She’s been at the hospital with her mom ever since the new moon. I didn’t want to go.

Her mom dying still reminds me of my parents dying, especially what with all of those wounds being ripped wide open lately. Graver and the Trinity and them. It makes me kind of a hypocrite, because she seemed like she actually needed me there with her. She all but said it.

In a perfect world, Moonshine and I would be there for each other whenever we needed someone. In a perfect world, being superheroes would be easy and you wouldn’t have to make life or death decisions that lead to practically killing a girl in self-defense. In a perfect world, my parents would never have died and Moonshine and I wouldn’t even be Solar Girl and Moonshine.

I said I wasn’t going to do this. I guess I lied. Because it’s not a perfect world and I’m not a perfect person. I’m a hypocrite and a liar and a selfish friend and I guess I kind of hate myself for it. I’m sorry, Moonshine. I just. I can’t be there. Any other thing you need from me and I’ll do it. But not that. Not right now.

I’m sorry.

We weren’t always like this. I mean, she’s always been bipolar like this, but we used to actually have fun together. We used to spend time together because we liked it, not because it was our job and we had an obligation to keep doing it. I remember I used to convince her to skip out on school with me because she was too smart for it anyway. We went running around our little penthouses and apartment buildings, bothering all the other tenants until we got dizzy and collapsed on the floor, laughing in each other’s arms.

We don’t do that anymore. She barely laughs at all. We used to have this dynamic, even when we started fighting crime. Back when it was just muggers and gangs. It was like something out of a Tarantino movie, I tell you. We talked about the strangest things in the middle of battle. But we don’t talk like that anymore. And I think that’s what makes me the saddest.

I dunno what went wrong. Somewhere along the line, she just lost herself. We’re still fighting crime and that’s awesome, but it feels like we’re just going through the motions. Like nothing even really matters anymore.

I’m gonna go out on patrol again today, like I normally do, I guess. Alone, like I normally do. Well, unless you count all these silly little wannabe heroes and villains. According to their blogs, Bound Radical and Dr. Synergy were together for a few days and then they broke up. So that means Radical’s still out there. Right along with all the others I haven’t had direct confrontations with yet, like Daddy Issue and the Hypno-Terrorist.

And thank god I haven’t met the Hypno-Terrorist yet. That would be really bad. For him. I have this issue about people having that kind of control over me. I know some hypnotism is probably beneficial and helps people stop smoking or get to sleep when they have insomnia or whatever, but, especially with someone like Hypno-Terrorist, I just don’t like it. The minute I see him in person, I’m probably gonna end up punching his lights out by habit.

So. Hypno-Terrorist. If you’re reading this. Don’t come at me, bro.

That’s all for today. Later, losers.

A Plate As Full As The Moon

So quite a lot has gone on the past couple days…how long has it been since I posted last? A whole week? More?

It looked like we were more or less done with supervillains for a while, with the exception of Fleshmonger and Dr. Synergy. We thought wrong. It seems like this whole thing’s just gonna explode into a bunch of heroes and villains more or less all at once. Makes me want to rename the city Super City, if that weren’t already taken. (Is it?)

The main new arc we seem to have stumbled into is this guy who I’ve learned calls himself Bound Radical. We first heard about him through the police scanners on the 4th, registering this guy who turned a pair of cops in the park near Doc Clocktower into seven year olds with some weirdo ray thing. They weren’t seven year olds very long, but it was long enough for him to do some crimey things.

Then he took a few days off. Then he started attacking the nightclubs around town, and some other places. The set of some silly show about accounting, for some reason. But he especially attacked the Seven Sins Lounge. We went by there for that but we were too late; he was already gone, leaving a stream of temporarily old people in his wake and a very upset Fleshmonger.

Dr. Synergy had apparently been there but had, let’s say, absconded with his new best friend, who I’ve now learned calls himself Bound Radical. I know this because GUESS WHAT? Bound Radical has a blog too! Yeah, it’s like some kind of fad now, I guess. His is a Tumblr, not a WordPress one, though. It’s here, if you’re wondering.

I’ve also learned through Synergy’s blog that I might not have really killed Socialighter at all. He makes a mention of a very heavily scarred young girl who apparently looks like me. I never properly noticed that, but I guess she does sort of look like me. Graver too, come to think of it…

Anyway, he calls her Sunny, if you read his blog. I’m almost certain it’s Socialighter. When I read about that girl who showed up in his lab, my heart hopped a double rainbow and took it all the way across the sky. I’m sure you can tell why.

I still feel like I killed her, though. In a way, I sort of have. I’ve killed any chance she has of being a beautiful girl again. And I seem to have killed whatever happiness she may have had, or helped to kill it anyway. So in a sense, I did kill her – but she just keeps on living, like a demented and burned Energizer Bunny.

Or is it the Duracell Bunny? I can never remember.

Moonshine’s been depressed the last few days, more than normal, because of the full moon. I’ve barely seen her and when I have, she’s been practically surrounded by a cloud of vodka. In fact, I’m not surprised that hasn’t been a thing, what with her powers and all.

I keep wanting to ask her whatever happened to her dad, but I never get around to it. Mostly because I don’t want to upset her anymore. At least not until this moon cycle wears off. I went by her penthouse a couple days ago, before Bound Radical attacked the Lounge.

Totally empty. The last time it was touched seems to have been roughly when Moonshine was holing up there to drink her depression away.

I’ve started coming up with theories about where he might’ve gone. Really, it’s just the one. But it’s ridiculous, and so naturally, it’s probably true.

I’m not gonna talk about it. I don’t want to jinx anything or whatever.

And as if that weren’t enough, I’ve begun hearing talks about this new radio show going up. Maybe a news show, maybe a talk show. Nobody seems to know yet. What they do know is that it seems to be targeted toward this recent fad of second-, third-, and fourth-class nonpowered supers that seem to have popped up lately.

I say “supers”, because they’re probably going to bring on both the heroes and the villains to the show, at least during the talk segments. Mostly it’s the pathetic ones, the ones they can make fun of, the ones they can get good ratings out of that the other, classier shows wouldn’t get because they wouldn’t stoop to such levels. Heroes like this weird Peer Review guy, who seems to take after Ruby Justice of the All-Star Corps. Villains like Daddy Issue, who’s not entirely what she seems like. She dresses like a paparazzi magazine and is apparently a trans of some kind, because she goes around pretending to be everybody’s drunken abusive father.

It would be surreal if it weren’t all so stupid and pathetic. And dangerous. I’m kind of scared for all the good-hearted heroes who I seem to inspire and who only dress up in spandex because that’s what they think I dress in, and other superheroes. I don’t dress in spandex. It may look like spandex, but it is not spandex. It’s extraterrestrial armor from another planet entirely. I found it in the crystal that I found the wristbands in. It’s strong as hell and that’s part of what makes me a professional.

To all the new fad heroes out there: I know you want to help. I understand that. And I know most of you probably read my blog. But please. Please, for you own safety. Stop trying to be something you’re not. And don’t go on this talk show. You’ll only get laughed at. But maybe getting laughed at is what you need to stop doing something this dangerous.

The Trinity’s still in jail – with the exception of Socialighter, who I’ve already said is probably with Dr. Synergy. As for Discojack and Graver? Discojack’s still gone. Graver’s still in the hospital. Or maybe he’s left already. I could care more. That leap week was a pretty confusing time for everyone involved. I really just want to put it behind me and concentrate on all these new arcs that have come along.

So once again. To all the wannabe new fad superheroes out there: stop what you’re doing. Now. Please. You’re going to get yourself killed.

And don’t go on that show. Even if they beg you on their hands and knees, with promises of more cash than you saw in your last paycheck.

Just. Don’t.

A Window To The Soul

I just woke up from another nightmare. But it was a different one this time. It wasn’t just a replay of the same old thing, it wasn’t just screams and burning flesh. In fact, it was none of those things. It was something totally different, in every possible way. But it’s affecting me right now more than those other ones did.

That would be because it involved my family. The first part of it was awesome. My parents and I, and for some reason I had a brother and sister too, were going to this video arcade on a regular basis, like we used to. We used to drive down to Sunshine Cove by the Ocean every first and last of the month and go down the boardwalk to the arcade. It was called Sunshine Cove too. I was always a bit confused about that. Not anymore, I guess.

The last trip we took, in real life, I almost got my hands cut off on the skeeball racks. I did actually break my wrists at the time. I remember my mom holding me and singing to me while we were waiting for the ambulance. She sang “You Are My Sunshine”. It was my favorite song back then, before the good doctor came and ruined it for me. But my mom’s voice was so beautiful and so comforting, even through the pain of my injuries. I couldn’t heal things back then. I was 12. That was only three years ago.

That was the last time she sang to me.

I’ll remember our last trip to Sunshine Cove until the day I die.

We never went again because we just never got around to it. I think partly they were too scared to risk me getting hurt there again. But maybe part of it was that me getting hurt had dirtied the place for them, like it could no longer be such a happy and perfect place for them when their daughter had almost died there. They never thought of it the same after that. I can understand that.

I just wish our last time there hadn’t been such a painful one.

The dream, though, reminded me of all of that. It reminded me of our little trips to Sunshine Cove every first and last of the month. Because that’s what it was. My family and I going to the arcade, except in the dream, it was every single day. We had moved to the town of Sunshine Cove in order to live in that perfect little world we’d discovered, where everything was happy and families never drifted apart or died.

But every perfect place has to have one bad thing about it. One little flaw that almost unravels the whole thing for you.

Every time we drove out to the arcade, we had to drive through this neighborhood. It was a horrible neighborhood, seeming more like a horrible malignant tumor than a place where people were supposed to live. Every house had a gun and every night had somebody shot. Every house had alcohol and every house had an alcoholic. And that was all pretty bad, the crime and the anger and the drunken rage being let out on such a regular basis.

But none of it could ever compare to the children.

Almost every house had a child living in it. A young broke child, the products of old broke parents, disgruntled mothers and fathers, and above all, drunks. And they were really mean drunks, the kind who won’t hesitate to do you some harm if you get on their bad side. Sometimes if you get on their good side too.

Every time we drove through that neighborhood, I would look out the windows at all the children, most of them in their front yards, trying to escape the chaos of what was every day to them, trying to escape the bruises and the screams in the dark, the insults and the cries blaming them for being born.

Their eyes were always so big and so sad that I couldn’t help but look into them, even though I knew that every time I did, I would remind myself that I was about to go and do something they never could with a family they’d never have. It would remind me that I had happy things to look forward to when I opened my eyes every day, and the only thing they felt when they opened their eyes was disappointment that their family hadn’t beaten them to death in their sleep.

It would remind me that, above all, I had a happy family. And they didn’t. I had a mom who sang to me when I got hurt. They had a mom who taunted them and insulted them, blaming them for hurting themselves when it was their mom’s fault. I had a dad who taught me how to throw a baseball and drive a car when I was too young to do either, who always made time for me, even if he was stressed at work. They had a dad who kicked them into the shadows and threatened them into hiding the bruises.

And there were dozens of these children. All of them with the same look in their eyes. And we had to drive right by them in order to get to the arcade. Every single day.

When I woke up, I was shivering. It wasn’t cold in my room.

The screams and horrors of the nightmares I’ve been having are pretty bad. But they are nothing compared to such a psychological horror as that. They’re nothing compared to getting a crushing sense of guilt and pain that undermines any happiness you could’ve had that day, and it happens every single day.

I still feel it, even though I’m awake and I know it didn’t happen. Because I do know that there are places out there with children like that, and this nightmare made me realize that. And most of all, it affected me more than the others because it was about my family. And it was about undermining the happiness of those memories at Sunshine Cove with the guilt of seeing those kids every single day.

Ugh. I’m still shivering, even as I write this. Moonshine is in the other room, sleeping quietly for once. She hasn’t been acting like herself since that day at the hospital. She’s started letting her emotions onto the surface, instead of keeping every possible feeling down. It’s strange, seeing her like this. Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, hearing her say words like “please” and “thank you”. It’s like her mom’s impending death and her dad’s disappearance made her realize her mortality and how much she meant to me and made her want herself to be a better version of herself than she has been.

I went in to check on her just after I woke up, because I needed to see her and remind myself that there was something innocent and happy left in my world. Sleeping with no blankets, like she usually does, in her faded Kolchak shirt. I wondered if she could be dreaming about the same thing I was, and realized she probably wasn’t. I dunno what she dreams about. She’s never told me.

I don’t think I’ll tell her about this dream. Not yet. She’ll find out, when she reads this post, and that’ll be that.

I dunno. I’m just sitting here and wondering does it mean anything? Was it really only a dream? Was it?


The nightmares woke me up earlier than I would’ve liked today. They always do. It’s the same thing they have been for the past few days. The screams. The smell. But I guess you can’t really expect killing someone to not leave any lasting effects, can you?

Yeah. I’m having nightmares about doing what I did to Socialighter. I don’t even know if she really died or not. Part of me hopes she didn’t. Most of me hopes she didn’t, I guess, so maybe the dreams will stop. But I know she did, I know she did, I can feel it. And that makes me sick, every time I remember it.

I keep thinking, what if there was another way out of that situation? And there probably was. But I moved in panic. I just wanted to get myself out of there. I don’t even know why I rescued Graver. I think somewhere along the line, I’ve forgotten my reasons for most things.

Moonshine and I took yesterday off to recuperate, but I know we need more than that to recover from that week. Physically…and emotionally. Emotionally mainly. Sometimes, I think it was a mistake to get into this business in the first place. I figured I knew what I was in for, but you never really know what to expect until it happens to you and you wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night with your head full of the dying screams of the first and only person you’ve ever killed, even if it was in self-defense (or so you tell yourself).

I can’t get back to sleep. I don’t want to. I’m gonna go out on early patrol. Maybe it’ll help get the screams out of my mind. Maybe it’ll make it so I don’t see her burning every time I close my eyes. Maybe I can find some thugs to beat up. Not that that would help. Much.

Later, losers.

The Long Leap Week

God. That was a busy week. Moonshine are back at headquarters now. Been almost a week since we’ve been here. That doesn’t seem very long but if you’d gone through what I went through this week, it would feel like a year or more. I lost my phone in the fight with Socialighter that I’m gonna get to in a bit, so I couldn’t do Twitter or anything. That’s why it’s seemed like I dropped out of existence.

So let’s start with Saturday. Going to find Graver and Socialighter. We met up with Graphique, Silver Stiletto, and Discojack early in the morning and went out on the town in our civvies(though with the police pretty much out in spades looking for all of us and they’d seen Graphique and the others with no masks on, we had to duck behind things every time a police car went by). After what must’ve been several hours of walking, all of which I’m still sore from and which we only did because we had to avoid revealing ourselves to be Solar Girl and Moonshine, we found Graver and Socialighter in an old abandoned warehouse, because where else would such a standoff take place?

Socialighter had Graver tied up to a chair next to a gas can, and half-unconscious, which I figured was shock from all the torture she’d put him through. His tattered clothes were even more tattered and burned now and where his exposed skin was once pale white, it was now wet and dark red and black. She went berserk on us pretty much the moment she noticed us and we figured we might be able to take her down easily, but we were wrong. It took all four of us to get her down while Discojack went and got Graver out of the chair.

She was raging too much to talk to us, so Discojack pulled out another one of his weirdo powers, put his hand over her head, and in a few minutes she was just as calm as he was. The first thing she asked was what he’d done to her and why she didn’t feel anything anymore. He threatened to do it again and she got to the point. I asked her what had happened and she said she had overtaken Graver once they got out of the nightclub and dragged him to the warehouse we found them in.

Then she felt free to straight-up torture him with her favorite lighter, presumably the one she took her name from. She burned him in a bunch of places, which makes sense as part of a revenge scheme against the man who framed her and her friends for burning down a building and killing my freaking parents. (And other people too. But mainly my parents.)

I empathize with her. I wanted to do that to him too, and I could do it even better, since I don’t even need a lighter to burn him. But the difference was, I held back. Socialighter didn’t and she died because of it.

Because, y’see, once we got done talking to Socialighter about what had happened, the calming effect of whatever Discojack had done to her wore off and she went animalistic again. We weren’t expecting it at all, so she got free. Before we could get back to her, she picked up the gas can. I saw what was coming and shot a burst of fire at it. It pretty much exploded all over her and the floor.

The rest of us got out of there before it started smelling like burning flesh.

I never wanted to do it. I still wish I could change what happened. But it was in self-defense. It had to be done or she’d keep coming. Right? That wasn’t me not able to hold back, right?

Times like this, I wish I liked alcohol so I could get drunk off Moonshine’s stash and forget what happened.

Ugh. So anyway. After we got Graver out of there, we took him by a park and left him there. As the rest of us headed back to the subway tunnels, Moonshine ducked into a phone booth and called an ambulance because she was the only one who didn’t have enough of a grudge against him to not want to call an ambulance for him, or who knew how to work a pay phone. (Discojack, apparently, is not updated on technology that’s existed for as long as phone booths have.)

After she rang up medical help, she met back up with us in the tunnels. We stayed there for a while, trying to figure out what to do next. Moonshine and I ended up just figuring we had to turn Graphique and Silver Stiletto back in and hope it got us off the hook again.

We didn’t tell them that, though, because come on, that’s not exactly the kind of thing you want to tell a girl you have a burgeoning kismesis with and the friend of a girl you have a burgeoning kismesis with. Especially since I’d just…ugh. You know. Dealt with a friend of theirs and saved someone none of us wanted alive.

So Sunday rolled around and we left Graphique and Silver Stiletto in the tunnels for a while, saying we were gonna bring back food, since none of us had eaten in a while. We went by a phone booth and rang up the police to give them an anonymous tip about the location of wanted escapees Chloe O’Hanlon and Selena Bonacetti.

We didn’t go back to the tunnels. Discojack had disappeared over the course of Saturday night, so we weren’t particularly worried about what would happen to him, but we did and still do want to find him. He’s another super, with a seemingly unlimited range of powers, and that makes him useful to us.

After we rang up the police, we went to eat. Taco Bell, my favorite. That’s not really relevant. While we were there, we drew up a plan to get back to drug ring investigations, but before we went anywhere, Moonshine did a very unlike-her thing. She opened up to me.

She told me that she didn’t really want to, but she was going to do it because she might not get another chance. Then she told me some things I’d never heard about her emotions and her feelings about her father and mother, none of which I’m repeating here. I’ve probably embarassed her enough already just saying she opened up to me.

Near the end of the conversation, she told me she wanted to go visit her mom, under hospital care after the disappearance of her only other care-providers. So…we went by there. I left her alone with her mom at her request, and she was in there for hours. I was asleep by the time she came back out.

When she came out, she was smiling. It was a sad smile, her eyes wet and swollen, but it was a lingering smile too. She hugged me. She’s never hugged me before. Then she took a deep breath and wiped away the tears and the smile and went back to being Moonshine.

We went by the drug tunnels after that, but I couldn’t concentrate properly because I was still thinking over the hospital thing. We hesitated at the door. I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it. It’s dangerous stuff and we’d already almost died enough times. But Moonshine was there for me. She was there for me. She gave me a punch to the arm and led the way inside.

We met back up with the guy who’d given us the drugs however long ago that was. We had a conversation about how they were and how we were back to buy more and things like that, before locking up the door to his office and bringing out a can of Extra Strength Whoop-Ass on him to convince him to talk to us about who really ran the operation. All he talked about was himself and how he was in charge of the operation.

He started laughing midway through the conversation, and then he started mocking us. He slapped a button on the desk and some guards came in and straight-up chloroformed us. I didn’t even know that was possible in reality.

We woke up handcuffed together in this grey room. Not all of it was grey, mind you – some if it was dark red. We’d spent the rest of Sunday and most of Monday unconscious in that room. When we woke up, he was waiting for us. He told us we could call him Crook, which I have to entirely support. He’d taken our wristbands off. Second time in as many weeks that’s happened to me. I don’t look forward to it happening again.

After about three hours of pointlessly circling conversation, we heard what can only be described as a ruckus outside and Crook left to find out what it was. Turns out, it was a police raid. The ruckus died down a bit later and Moonshine and I were left there in silence. So apparently, it wasn’t a rescue raid. Okay. Cool.

We rescued ourselves. Without the watch of Crook, Moonshine was able to get to her special utility belt or whatever it is and get out a vibrating knife. It felt like a vibrating knife, anyway; it was actually just an electric knife, basically a miniature power saw. She cut through the ropes in a snap and we got our wristbands back and got out of there.

We went by the police station soon thereafter, in our super outfits. We just pranced right into the Barracuda’s office and gave this whole speech about how we were responsible and how we had more physical power than she did and how we needed to be brought into the loop and this and that and especially how we were only responsible for helping the Trinity escape once, and how we weren’t even responsible for it that time. Discojack was.

She dropped her ruthless demeanor after we did, telling us to keep what she was about to say a secret. Secrecy means not saying it on here, so I won’t. I’d be better off not talking about this at all, but whatever, man. It got O’Hanlon disbanded. Who cares if it gets the Barracuda disbanded?

On Tuesday, we went by the Seven Sins Lounge to talk to a man called Fleshmonger, who we now know is the brains of the drug operation. Let me just tell you, the man is like a mix between a jive-talking 70s stereotype, a modern day pimp, and a Jersey Shore douche. I’m not really sure what is entirely up with him, I just know someone must’ve dropped him on the head more than once when he was a kid.

When we got in to see him, he was listening to some Plastic Mode and wearing this three-piece purple suit with black stripes on, but his pants were bell-bottoms and the collar of his pink-button up was all flared like you see in 70s movies. Around his neck was a red feather boa and he walked with a sapphire-topped golden cane, which was at least justified because he walked with a limp in his left leg. All the bare skin I could see was orange with fake tanning and his hair was all spiky and gelled.

And if that wasn’t enough to make me want to punch him in his douchey face, he has this high voice that always sounds like it’s trying to be cool and detached and ironic about everything it says, and everything it says is things like “Yo, what’s the skinny, dawg?” or “I’m down wit’ dat” and he kept calling Moonshine and I “those foxy bunnies”, which are two completely different animals.


Oh! And lest we forget, guess who was there with him? Doctor fucking Synergy! They were surrounded by some girls who were probably a group of Fleshmonger’s secret prostitutes, and who he was apparently offering to Synergy. I found out earlier tonight because of his blog that he and this Flehsmonger douche were friends now. Fleshmonger found out about Dr. Synergy’s whole subway lab through the hole Moonshine blew in the side of it and they’d teamed up for…some reason. Apparently to go after me? Real nice job of that, by the way, guys!

Oh, Dr. Synergy also said Moonshine and I went there with some “little costumed friends he’d never seen before”, but that’s completely untrue. I can only assume he was referring to people like Graphique, Silver Stiletto, and Graver, but Moonshine and I went there alone.

Synergy tackled Moonshine almost immediately and I went at him from behind to pull him back. Then Fleshmonger banged his cane on the ground and was like “Chillax, dawgs, and tell daddy why you gotta be such a collective drag, man.” Uggggh. Every time he opened his mouth, I wanted to punch him in it. And other places.

We had a little discussion about how he was in charge of trafficking the fog and he was like “Gag me with a spoon, you dawgs is wit’ da fuzz, aintcha? Lemme just dish that I ain’t never heard of the fog ’fore now, so you foxy bunnies can just hightail it on out of here”. Total lie, by the way. But we left anyway. Mainly to avoid dealing with Dr. Synergy. We didn’t avoid it for long.

Later that night, yesterday basically, Moonshine and I were still out on the town, on patrol now that the Barracuda had gotten us off the hook. And Dr. Synergy came right up along and knocked Moonshine out before I even knew he was there with a syringe to the neck and almost did the same to me, but I’d heard her body falling and turned right around to see him. He tackled me to the ground, and I saw that he’d added a painted-on smile to his surgical mask.

Weirdo. Why am I surrounded by all these weirdos all the time?

I tried to burn his hands or fly up or something to get out from under him, but he pulled out another syringe and jabbed me in the neck with it. I blacked out pretty much right there, half a minute or so later.

I woke up in his lab again, still with “You Are My Sunshine” playing in the background. By the time I woke up, it was Wednesday morning. He asked me how my wristbands worked because he was trying to clone them. I didn’t answer him, but Moonshine came barging through the hole in the wall (which he still hasn’t fixed) and rescued me again. If this happens again, I’m just gonna punch his lights out right then and there. Seriously.

We came back here and slept for a while. I woke up and started writing this, finally. I dunno what we’re gonna do next. I’m just gonna post this and get more sleep. Later, losers.