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Max dusted himself off. He was lucky to be alive. Even though Sapphire had diverted the explosion away from the building, he'd been standing right on the edge of her forcefield. Somehow, he'd been locked in its grip, his body pinned in place as first the hot wind pressed down on him, then the hotter flames licked at him as they rushed and then rolled past, then stopped and rushed back, tugging at him to join them in the center of the maelstrom.
He should be in agony, but he wasn't. His shoulder should be throbbing from where he'd been shot, but it wasn't. He should feel drained and weak from his attacks on Sapphire, but he wasn't.
He'd never felt better. He'd never felt more powerful.
He'd been held fast at the edge of Sapphire's energy, feeling it push through him to confront the wall of white-hot flame and curl back from it.
And the amulet had been there to collect its return.
Max leaped up onto the dock, rushing to his Queen's side. She lay unconscious, but breathing. Max reached inside her mind, brushing aside fear and hatred, installing a calm resolve.
Soon, my Queen, we will take our place as gods.
Max turned to locate the tool of his ascension. The roadway was littered with chunks of concrete; a fine mist of the stuff still hung in the air. But the sapphires' last gasp had cleared a thirty-foot circle of debris. And at its center lay a delicately-curled young woman caressed by gossamer blue fabric.
Max jumped down, crossing the roadway to stand over the heroine's still form. So beautiful, even now. So feminine. So fragile. So small. It was hard to believe that such a girl had been a vessel for so much power, even as he felt the awesome hum of its reflection through the amulet. He had never felt such energy before. Previous encounters with the sapphires' energy had been mere shadows, scarcely preparing him for the might of this moment. The energy coursed through him, pulsing and throbbing, testing his resolve to contain it. It was little wonder that it had broken such a frail thing as the girl who now lay at his feet.
A breeze blew gently across the circle, rousing the girl's insubstantial costume but not the girl herself. The world was strangely silent in the aftermath of such terrible concussive forces.
Time seemed to stand still in tribute to Fang Manxie's triumph.
Sound eventually returned. The soft scratching of the bodyguards at the other end of the corridor finally stirring. The gentle rush of distant automobiles. The pebbling of settling debris. His own breathing. Max pushed these to the background as he focused on claiming his prize.
Max knelt next to the fallen superheroine. Hands quickly went to work stripping her of her adornments. Crown freed from disheveled hair. Wristbands pulled away from gloved hands. Shoes slipped off stocking-clad feet.
"Get your damn hands off her!"
Max froze where he knelt. He reached out with his mind, and was immediately hammered by a wash of righteous hate.
"Put the sapphires down."
Max held fast.
"I said, put 'em down." He heard the young man step forward. He heard his rapid breathing. And felt the barrel of the gun at the top of his neck.
Max was unafraid.
He mentally pushed a command: drop the gun.
But the pressure on his neck was unrelenting.
So he tried a different approach. What he couldn't command, he could crush...
Ricky suddenly went stiff. His whole body screamed in silent pain.
He tried to pull the trigger.
He tried to move.
He tried to breathe.
He listened in rising panic for a heartbeat... and heard only deafening silence.
Max quickly stood, flipping his head back against the gun to tip the immobilized teen over. He turned to watch the youth angle back, slowly rotating to his side like a felled tree. Max released his grip on the boy's brain just before he landed.
The impact both knocked the wind out of and into Ricky at once as he awoke from his terrifying momentary death with a desperate gasp. The pistol fell from the young man's hand, forgotten as every muscle flexed to yank life back from the edge of eternity. Max deftly kicked it clear of danger.
"Perhaps I cannot control what you think, but I still hold sway over you, boy. You shall not stand in my way again."
The Hunter turned away from his writhing victim to attend to his Black Widow Queen.
Max gently lifted Valerie's sleeping form off the dock, turning back toward the retaining wall and freedom beyond. As he passed the still gasping Ricky, the young man's hand shot out to grab his ankle. Max stopped, looking down on the bulging-eyed face, at once deathly afraid and grimly determined. Max marveled at the strength of will that kept the boy from being reduced to quivering animal self-preservation. In a moment of irrelevent merciful dismissal, Max drew a curtain of darkness down on Ricky's mind.
Val awoke. There was a moment of suspicion on her face, but it quickly faded as Max imperceptibly caressed her mind.
"You're always there for me, Max," she said softly, before collapsing in his arms.
Max threw his unconscious queen over his shoulder and carried her across the roadway, up through the rubble. Distant sirens spurred him across the street and past the hollow buildings to the park beyond.
Bates hefted his large frame out of the back of the limo with some effort. His face was bloodied and swollen; his men could only imagine the damage inflicted over the rest of his body and the pain he must have been feeling. By comparison, being blown off their feet by the Sapphire-damped periphery of an explosion when most of the blast's force had been shunted across the street didn't seem so bad.
"Listen up!" Bates barked; his voice boomed in the semi-tunnel of the loading dock, grabbing his subordinates' attention. "I don't want panic! Keep people inside, off the docks!" He gave his men a quick verbal spin to keep partygoers calm and avoid a dangerous rush for the exits -- or a serious scandal: "Tell them it was just a show, the explosion was just a technical glitch, nothing to be concerned about, just some minor cosmetic damage. No panic! They can leave or stay for the rest of the party! All drinks are on me!"
His men had picked themselves up off the pavement by now, and were looking at him, stunned.
"Go!" he commanded; they snapped to comply.
He turned to Spicoli. "Get Security on the line. Give them the same instructions. And get an ambulance."
Bates called out to Leon, the man who'd chased the boy down; closest to the explosion, he still sat on the ground, shaking his head. "Leon! Go help Sapphire! Find out if she's all right!" The man scrambled to his feet, looking around, confused: where did the kid go?
"Now!" Bates bellowed. Leon took off running down the roadway, toward the ring of chunked concrete and settling dust.
Ricky shook off the pain of the Hunter's fading mental shadow and rushed to Angela's side. She lay horrifyingly still, one arm stretched out above her head, the other turned away from her hip; her legs were splayed awkwardly, feet still clad in sheer ruffled socks unmoved from where the Hunter had dropped them.
Ricky was overcome with anxious grief. "What did he do to you?" His mother had been taken from him when he was a small child; he feared that he had now lost Angela too. "Oh God, please, no, not her too, don't take her too."
Ricky gently cradled her head; his heart quickened as he felt a pulse, but it felt weak, and her body was heavy and limp. He tenderly brushed the hair out of her closed eyes. "Come back to me, Angela. Don't go. Please don't go. I love you."
Tears fell from his cheeks to hers as he began to sob.
"Please."
She took a breath.
He held his as he watched her eyelids flutter open.
They stared into each other's eyes for an eternity. Surprise gave way to relief; relief gave way to joy.
For a long time, neither could find words. So much to explain. So many apologies. So many emotions. So much hurt. So much hope.
Finally, Ricky spoke.
"Hi."
He smiled as he blinked back his tears.
"Hi," she answered. The simple word meant nothing. And everything.
Her smile told the story of a long-lost girl's bliss at being found.
"You saved me," she said, her voice barely a whisper, made with great effort. "Again."
Ricky suddenly lifted her into his arms, holding her as tight as he could, gently rocking back and forth.
"You saved all of us," he wept. "I thought I'd lost you."
After a moment, Angela stiffened. Ricky relaxed his hold, cradling her in one arm.
"The sapphires..." Angela said weakly. She struggled to get up, but could do little more than flop her limbs lamely. The obvious pain she felt from movement was nothing compared to the helpless terror on her face; it hurt Ricky to see her fear. And yet he sensed that she didn't fear for herself, but for what could happen if her power remained in the hands of the wicked.
Again she tried to rise. Ricky's heart swelled at the bravery of his little heroine. The magnitude of her selflessness inspired him. "I'll take care of it," he said, easing her back down to the ground. "You stay here." He stood and stepped away.
"Ricky, no..." Angela called out, trying desperately to get up but able to do nothing more than roll onto her side. Her body felt distant, fuzzy, sluggish. She looked up to see Ricky addressing a very large man. She struggled to stay conscious against overwhelming exhaustion.
Leon arrived just as the young man laid the girl back down and stood up. "Take her inside," he ordered. The lad's voice carried a purpose and authority far beyond his years. "See that she's taken care of. I'm going after the Hunter and Black Widow."
Leon was no leader, but still, under any other circumstances, the idea of taking orders from a teenage boy little more than half his size would have seemed ridiculous. But now, seeing the way the young man stood there over this girl whose life he'd saved so that she could save them all, seeing the pain on his face and the fiery determination in his eyes, Leon felt neither doubt nor hesitation as he lifted the fragile young woman in his arms.
Ricky's hand reached into Leon's sportcoat pocket, pulling out the big man's phone and dropping another one in its place. "I need to borrow your phone. Leave my phone with her."
Leon watched the slender young man sprint away, bounding up through the chunks of broken retaining wall to the street beyond.
Max looked around. The park was deserted. His wound stung with every move of his arm, but he brushed aside the pain. Soon there would be no pain. Soon he would be rid of weakness.
"Wake up, my love." It was as much a command as an entreaty. "It is time." His hand flipped up her tattered skirt and tore open the gusset of her panties.
He saw her eyes open in surprise as he entered her. But she did not resist; the veil he laid over her mind prevented it.
Trees. Orange streetlights. Twinkling skyscrapers beyond. All began to fade, replaced by an encompassing light. The beacon of their final union.
The light glowed brighter, whiter. It should have hurt his eyes, but it did not. With the enveloping blue-white light came a rushing wind sound -- a continuous "hush." Gravity ceased; he felt nothing but her, wrapped around him, beneath him, embracing him. Her mind was an empty field of pleasure now; no resistance, no hesitation, no thought, only a blissful reflection of their union. They tumbled around each other, joined at their centers. The light grew, illuminating them, making them translucent, then luminescent, reflections and amplifications of the light around them, almost pure white now, the fiercely peaceful rush of white noise building with the light.
Ricky stopped short when he saw it: a sphere of bright light, with a pair of barely discernible silhouettes in its center, one laying atop the other. No, not laying exactly; Ricky could see a rhythmic rising and falling. They were fucking. Through the spheric mist of light he could see brighter pinpoints, where he would have expected Black Widow's and Sapphire's gemstones to be worn.
Shit. What was he supposed to do now? He took cover behind a large rock as his mind raced. His eyes squinted as the light grew brighter... and the sphere grew larger...
The light began to flicker; Max became aware of brief strobes of infinite brightness, in time with their thrusts. Dimming as they withdrew from each other, popping like a million flashbulbs in glorious celebration of their deepest connection. It was wonderful.
And Max became aware of the rushing sound's absence. Too lost in his own turgid insistence to notice its passing, the silence seemed to magnify and dissipate all sense of space. They were at once points in an infinite realm and the whole of the universe. The total absence of sound heightened his sense of his partner and of himself. No breathing, no movement, no surroundings. Max felt his lover's excitement at their ascension beginning to peak, as he could feel his own. The strobe brightness increased, pulses becoming more and more frequent...
...and the spaces between becoming darker and darker.
But Max could again see his Valerie, his Black Widow, his Queen. Her head back, her eyes tightly shut, her smooth muscles clearly defined beneath her hot skin, so close now, they were both so close...
But their time did not yet come.
Max pushed, reaching, striving for nirvana. He looked upon his lover, wrapped so exquisitely around him, so expertly joined, their bodies bathed in the blue glow of her sapphires, those on hands and feet intersecting a sphere of blue light, the space around continuing to fade to darkness, only the sphere strobing with their carnal efforts. The sphere, connected to her sapphires, strobing in time with the gemstones encircling his Queen's graceful neck, most of them simply reflecting, but three of them spitting like stars perpetually repeating the first instant of supernova...
Three of them...
Max thrust ever faster, his body desperate for release now, even as his mind raised alarm. Three of them... his hand brought up between them, sensing space between them, reaching for his Queen's necklace, grasping at the spitting, hissing, flickering, angry stones, turning the linked orbs around her neck. Three of them.
Three of them.
That made seven sapphires. But there were eight. There were eight!
The sphere arced and shorted about their bodies as they now frantically ground against each other, praying for release, for disconnect. Pleasure faded with the light, but still they were compelled to rut hopelessly against each other. His Queen's beauty faded with her effort, tendons stretching taught, musculature hardening, skin turning mottled and ashlike. Sound returned, a low ominous rumble, building in volume, pounding in time with their fevered, increasingly irregular pounding.
She screamed.
He looked down upon her in horror, as her image seemed to split; vapor-shadows of her light form separated from her dark form, becoming beauty and beast at once before the latter took hold.
And her eyes held fear.
Max felt pain now, spreading from his center, seizing at his muscles, gripping him, squeezing him.
The sphere of light turned in on itself now, falling inward, pulling at them as it collapsed, running from the darkness.
Her face was grotesque abject terror, her being clawing at his like a drowning soul, unable to stop the sick thrusting between them.
And the darkness took form as it rushed in toward them, stifling them, suffocating them. Forms drew long, jagged, gnarled, smashing through them into the angry red pinpoint at their center. Gruesome beasts of unimaginable horror, demons hurtling into them, rending their transcendent flesh, rushing from all sides, storming inward, crushing inward... a thousand thousand hideous wraiths illuminated in the endless blackness by the surging angry glow of seven sapphires, each grasping the amulet as they poured into him and tore at his soul.
A second rumble shook the building. Everyone on the floor froze for a moment, remembering the terrible shudder that had nearly spelled their collective doom only a few minutes before. But this new sound was gone in an instant, and by comparison more distant.
Like everyone around them, Noel and Eric both ducked instinctively at the sound; but the rumble quickly faded. A few standing outside had noticed a strobelike flickering, like a rapid climax of fireworks over the horizon before the boom, but when a few moments of collective hushed trepidation brought no more activity, it was quickly forgotten, a footnote to an evening of unbelieveable events. People in the massive hall resumed their conversations, their random wanderings, their quiet reflection. Somewhere someone thought to cue up some music.
The two men resumed their slow search of the crowd. They'd heard second-hand that someone had brought a young woman in from outside; it had to be Angela.
For some reason the explosion reminded Eric of his new partner's gunshot wound. Noel's shoulder was dark and bloody; the temporary bandage had soaked through. But the bleeding seemed to have stopped.
"You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. She just nicked me."
"With what, a grenade?"
Angela gradually became away of a gentle hand stroking her face with a wet cloth. She opened her eyes to see a young woman looking down at her, cradling Angela's head in her lap. The woman smiled.
"Where am I?" Angela asked, her voice hoarse. She took a deep breath; her lungs burned, making her cough.
"Hey, you're back," the woman said warmly. "I thought you'd be out for a while after what you've been through. You're inside the convention center. They found you outside on the loading dock."
Angela felt a dull blank in her memory.
"Probably shock," the young woman soothed. She looked about the same age as Angela. "Don't worry, it'll come back to you."
"What happened?"
The young woman gave Angela a smirk. "I was hoping you could tell me."
"The bomb... was anyone hurt?" Angela sat up with a start, quickly looking around.
There were crowds of people milling about, sitting on pieces of equipment, a mix of hushed tones, amazed discussions, and raucous laughter. Dance music echoed in the background. The bright yellow-white light of the overhead floods gave the place the feeling of a school gymnasium.
A few people nursed sprains or bumps on the head, but that was all.
"No serious injuries. Not from the blast, anyway. Black Widow messed up a couple of Bates' bodyguards really bad; I think she got to Bates himself too. And there's rumors of a bunch of dead bodies up top, but Security keeps saying no one was killed. Somebody said it was terrorists and some government agent took them out, but not before they triggered their bomb. They would have blown the roof off the place if it hadn't been for Sapphire."
Angela looked down at her bare feet and unadorned wrists. A hesitant hand found nothing but hair atop her head. She suddenly remembered waking up in the middle of the concrete roadway, laying at the center of a thirty foot circle cleared of debris, with chunks of charred concrete strewn for a hundred feet beyond in a semicircle blown away from the building. Her sapphires and tiara had vanished. She remembered Ricky, holding her. And she remembered him racing off after the Hunter and Black Widow who'd taken her sapphires.
"Oh God, Ricky!" She struggled to get up, but she still felt so dizzy...
"Relax," the young woman said. "He called a minute ago. He's on his way back. He said to tell you 'they blew up.'"
Angela settled back down. 'They blew up' -- the sapphires, no doubt, but Black Widow? The Hunter? Probably victims of the sapphires' end. She felt more relief than sadness at the news. It was over. And Ricky was okay.
"So what were you doing out there, anyway?" the young woman asked, giving Angela a suspicious look.
"I went outside to get some fresh air," Angela lied. "Then there was an explosion. Next thing I know I'm here talking to you."
"Come on, don't be modest. You saved all these people. You're a hero. A superhero."
But Sapphire was gone. Only Angela remained.
"It wasn't me," she said quietly. "It was Sapphire."
Her companion took a moment to ponder the comment. Modesty? Protecting a secret identity? Preserving an aura of mystery? No, it was something else. Almost like a goodbye.
"If you say so," she finally dismissed. "So what's your name then?"
"Angela."
The young woman offered her hand; Angela shook it weakly.
"Nice to meet you, Angela. My name's Claire."
Angela raised an eyebrow at the name. Why was it familiar?
"Nice outfit, by the way," Claire said, touching the fabric on Angela's hip appreciatively. "I almost wore one just like it, but my cousin talked me out of it at the last minute."
Noel felt a hand on his shoulder; he turned to see Ricky standing beside him.
"Ricky Aquino, what the *hell* are you doing here?" Noel bellowed with a mix of angry disapproval, confusion, and relief that only a father can show towards a son.
Ricky ignored the profanity; teasing his straight-laced father about a slip of the tongue seemed petty in light of what they'd all been through. "Angela was in trouble," he said simply.
Eric noticed the bulge in the back of the young man's pants; he suspected Detective Aquino would shit a brick if he knew his son was packing, so Eric remained silent. But this unexpected discovery suggested that Ricky had quite a story to tell. "What happened?" he asked, trying and failing to hide anticipation with nonchalance.
"Ginger's dead," Ricky said with a thankful sigh.
"Yeah, we saw the body," Eric dismissed what he already knew. "Shot in the gut, with her own weapon judging from the size of the wound. Appropriately painful and gruesome. But where've you been?"
Noel chimed in with what he knew, expecting Ricky as a recent arrival to know less than his father did. "We saw the damage outside. It looks like a huge bomb went off, but the building itself is untouched; all the damage is spread out away from the building. We heard one of Bates' bodyguards say that he was out on the dock and saw Sapphire deflect the explosion with a forcefield of bright light. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen what she could do firsthand."
"So you pretty much know what happened then," Ricky said. (Noel was surprised at his son's knowing reaction.) "Where's Angela? I told that guy to bring her inside. I have to see if she's all right." He jumped up on a barstool and then the bar itself, eyes scanning the crowd.
"You told... that guy..." Noel started, connecting Ricky's words to the bodyguard's story. "You were out on the docks! For heaven's sake, Ricky, you could have been hurt!"
Ricky looked sheepish, but only for a moment. "I did what I had to do, dad," he shrugged. But he knew better than to volunteer any details or his dad would only get more upset. He resumed scanning for signs of his fallen heroine.
Eric's enthusiasm overrode his awareness of the father-son dynamic. "So you're the one who shot the Hunter to save Sapphire, then went charging after The Hunter and The Black Widow after Sapphire fell. Did you see the second explosion? You're obviously okay... what happened?"
Ricky looked down from his perch, first blushing at the cross/plaintive look his dad gave him, then shooting a 'thanks, bigmouth' glare at Eric before answering. "I don't know, exactly. The Hunter took Angela's, um, powers, and took off for the park with Black Widow. I knew we couldn't let them get away with it; who knows what those two would do with that kind of power? Somebody had to stop them."
"It didn't have to be you, son," Noel said ruefully, even as he felt a certain pride swelling within him.
"Well, you were busy," Ricky shot back. Even Eric recognized the significance of the son-to-father dig; clearly Ricky saw his father as a hero figure, but the young man had found a strength of his own and wanted Noel to recognize it.
Ricky continued. "Anyway, I found them in a clearing in the park, in the center of a big sphere of blue-white light. I think they were... having sex." There was really no better way to put it. "I could tell Black Widow was wearing Angela's sapphires. I was thinking of what to do when the light got bigger and brighter. I couldn't see them inside anymore. I got out of there because it looked like it was gonna explode, and then it did. I went back and it looked like a meteorite impact crater -- all burned in the middle and trees flattened out from the center. There was no sign of them. I don't know what happened. I hope they're dead." His matter-of-fact description seemed disappointing considering the fantastic strangeness and magnitude of the event. But he didn't feel like gussying up his description with a lot of awed language. Such energies were directed at finding Angela and being with her.
Noel shook his head, anxiety permeating his expression. "Ricky, I know you... have feelings for Angela, but you're not a superhero. If they were able to take down Sapphire, what do you think they could have done to you? What did you think you could do, chasing them like that, Ricky?"
"I don't know, dad. Maybe it wasn't the smart thing to do. But it was important to Angela. And that makes it important to me. I couldn't just do nothing. Now if it's all right with you, I'm gonna go find her and make sure she's okay." It was clear from his tone that it didn't matter whether it was all right with Noel or not. He jumped down; Noel caught his arm.
Eric interjected to try to ease the tension between the two Aquinos. "If Ricky hadn't been here and gone after the Hunter in the first place, we might not be standing here," he pointed out. "This *building* might not be standing here. Sometimes the only difference between stupid and brave is the result."
Noel's face seemed to soften at that remark. Eric was right; Ricky was a hero. And more than a little like his father after all.
Ricky watched his father's stern face soften and crack into a beaming smile of pride. Ricky felt the grip on his arm relax; the hand rose to land on his shoulder. "I know. I'm proud of you, son. Now go on." Noel gave Ricky's shoulder a little push to send him on his way.
Eric stayed back with Noel as they followed in the younger Aquino's footsteps. He let out a low whistle as he surveyed the crowd. "If it hadn't been for Sapphire... Ginger would have killed these people."
Noel looked at Eric. "I can't believe you worked for a monster like Ginger."
"Worse. I slept with her."
Within a few minutes, Ricky came rushing back toward them.
"She's over there, by the knocked-over statue. I'm running to get her some more water," he said, holding up an empty cup. "I'll be right back." He dashed off.
They worked their way through the crowd, which seemed to be thickest around the fallen Man Wielding Hammer statue. Most people sat or laid on their coats and sweaters, or on banners hastily pulled from set decorations; a few attended to minor cuts and bruises. At the statue's feet was a thick knot of people, mostly young women, excitedly recounting and debating each other's versions of events. It was clear from the louder, more fantastic fragments of conversation that not everyone present was entirely sober.
And one young woman sat silently in the middle of it all, looking more shellshocked than most. Barefoot, hair a mess, barely covered by a two-piece outfit not unlike many girls here but somehow looking at once more fragile and more regal than any of them.
Angela.
Noel was about to approach her when a ruckus erupted to his right; the music that had been playing suddenly stopped.
"Turn that shit off! Move aside! Coming through! Police! Where is she?"
A chevron of uniforms, headed by a man in a dark suit and trenchcoat whose chest looked ready to burst it was thrust forward so prominently, strutted across the floor toward them. Bubbling along to either side were the painfully-bright spotlights and boom microphones of several television news crews.
"Well, my evening's ruined," Noel deadpanned.
"Who's that?" Eric asked.
"Detective Miguel Rubio, here to polish his badge."
Rubio stepped up on the shifting, creaking remains of what had been the raised dance floor beneath the statue.
"Which one of you is Sapphire? You're under arrest for destruction of property and reckless endangerment." Everyone present looked back at the detective, stunned. "Well, don't just sit there. If she won't come forward on her own, I'm sure someone here is interested in the reward still offered for her capture."
The last clusters of conversation fell silent. Shellshocked partygoers looked around at each other; a few glanced toward the exhausted heroine but quickly averted their gaze for fear of giving her away.
"Need I remind you that anyone who knows who she is and doesn't come forward is an accessory and guilty of conspiracy?"
Rubio noticed Noel standing to the side. "Detective Aquino," Rubio said with a grandiose tone; all the lights and cameras swiveled in Noel's direction. "You interrogated Sapphire... before she *mysteriously* escaped police custody. Are you not able to point her out?"
Noel shielded his eyes from the bright lights; he was not so used to the media barrage as Rubio. He passed his eyes over the gathered crowd as cover for looking at Angela. The depleted heroine closed her eyes and nodded: it's okay.
But Noel stood stone-faced. "I'm afraid I can't help you, Detective Rubio."
Rubio snapped his fingers at the uniform to his left and then pointed at his rival. "Arrest him. Harboring a known felon. Obstruction of justice. Gross incompetence. Violating the terms of his suspension." Rubio was making things up, but the press devoured every word. This was a man of action who would find the one responsible for this chaos.
The officers hesitated a moment, but slowly moved to comply.
Through the bright lights, Noel saw Angela stir. The fragile girl slowly stood, shrugging off her attendant. A camera snapped around to frame her feminine features in its unyielding lens. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak...
"I'm Sapphire."
Heads and cameras alike swiveled as one, away from Angela and toward the unexpected voice. Another girl, dressed in a sexy Sapphire costume, stood resolutely, hands on her hips. "I'm Sapphire," she repeated.
Another young woman, standing a few feet from Angela, shot to her feet. "No, I'm Sapphire!" A smile gradually broke over her face.
"I'm Sapphire."
"I'm Sapphire." "No, I'm Sapphire!"
"Arrest me! I'm the real Sapphire!"
"No, arrest me!" "No, me!" "I'm Sapphire!"
Cameras stopped moving, crews and police alike overcome with confusion. Within seconds, most of the nearby crowd had stood, raising their hands, pushing forward. Tall, short, young, old, slender, rubenesque, women dressed as Sapphire or Black Widow or neither, even men began yelling, chanting, "I'm Sapphire! I'm Sapphire!"
Rubio tugged at his collar; his face had turned bright red. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked ready to explode.
Noel shook off the reluctant officers holding him, pushing through the crowd toward Rubio. And toward Angela.
Toward Sapphire, who looked around in confusion and amazement at the shouting hoardes protecting her. Standing with her. Rooting for her. Thanking her.
"Quiet!" Rubio screamed above the shouting. "Everyone *QUIET*!" he bellowed. The chanting died down, replaced by laughter and smiles and jeers.
Noel spoke, raising his voice above the receding chorus. "Detective Rubio! Are you going to arrest all of them?"
Rubio was enraged; Noel could see veins bulging at his temples. "She's here, I know it. I'll detain everyone in this building if I have to to find her. She's a menace!"
The crowd parted for Noel to stand before the spitting-mad detective. Cameras shifted round to frame the two of them facing off. "Rubio, you're an idiot. Open your eyes. If you cared about anything other than your own personal glory you'd see that Sapphire is one of the good guys. She just saved hundreds of lives from a terrorist attack. She stopped a crazed assassin from killing one of our community's business leaders. She's repeatedly risked her life to save others. She has a unique gift, an amazing power we can't even begin to understand, and rather than use it for her own selfish gain she chose to use it to fight the forces of evil. Sapphire is a bona fide superheroine, and this city is damn lucky to have her."
The crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers and applause. Rubio could only sputter, his mind obviously churning for some way to recover from this grievous misjudgement of public sentiment.
Noel made a show of pushing Rubio aside as he continued through the crowd toward Angela. He stopped next to her, trying not to wince as he took off his jacket and draped it over the slender girl's shoulders. Ricky broke through the crowd to join him. "Nice one, dad," he said, beaming.
"Good work, Detective Aquino." Cameras swiveled to capture Police Captain Ramirez standing off to the side of the stage.
Noel put up a hand as if to clear path. "Now if you'll excuse me," he finished, "I've got to make sure that my son and his girlfriend get home safely."
The lights of cameras briefly lit their path before seeing the chance for more of the story from the top-ranking officer on the scene; they swiveled back to illuminate the Captain.
"Captain Ramirez! Can we get a statement about what happened here?"
Ramirez gestured toward Noel as the detective escorted a disheveled young woman toward the exit. "I think he just made it."