The Femme Defenders in: Enter the Mind Mistress!

By NoComeupance (nocomeupance@gmail.com)

Author's note: This story is a sort of spin-off of Future Girl and leads directly into Six Little Heroines. All characters are my original creations. Or, where stolen, they've at least had the serial numbers filed off. On any other site, I'd be careful to include a rape warning for stories that contained rape; for this story on this site, I'm including a no-rape warning. So: There's no rape in this story.

Jacquelyn Baxter, Jacky to her friends, took her seat at the conference table and closed her eyes. She laid her hands flat on the surface in front of her, feeling its smooth, polished surface beneath her fingers, then took a deep breath and began talking to herself.

“You can do this, Jacky. You can convince them that this is for the best and is the first step to getting the team on track. Don't be intimidated. You're just as much a superheroine as they are.”

“Well, I wouldn't say as much a superheroine as the rest of us. But it's hard to dispute that you're a heroine; you do have the tights for it.”

Jacky's monologue was interrupted by the snide sniping of the person she anticipated the most trouble from during the meeting to come, Veronica LeGrange, known to the world as... Well, really, as Veronica LeGrange, but also as the Velvet Glove.

“Veronica! Nice to see you,” Jacky lied, “have a seat!”

She gestured to Veronica's customary chair immediately to her left. Veronica's was the only chair that wasn't a bolted-in retro-futuristic metal swivel. She had insisted on a custom-crafted ergonomic chair from her own high-end furniture line. After much argument, Jacky had relented. After all, Veronica was paying for the chair... And all the other chairs... And the table... and the conference room... and the headquarters...

“I hope this week's meeting won't take long, I've got a function to get to,” Veronica said.

Veronica swept around the table and planted herself daintily in her appointed chair.

“It'll take as long as it needs to,” Jacky sighed, “We need another team member and I'd like to get her picked today...”

*SPROING!*

A curious yellow spring, about five and a half feet long, flew through the just-opened conference room door and rocketed into the seat at the far end of the conference table from Jacky. As the spring landed on the chair and compressed, it melted into a yellow-and-red blob, then sprang outward into the shape of a fully-formed, very excited young woman in her late teens.

“Oh boy! A new team member! Who's auditioning? Is it anyone famous? Can we meet them today?” said Zoe, the erstwhile spring and full-time rubbery superheroine.

“Applicants are in the waiting room,” Jacky said with a sigh, “You'll get to meet them shortly, but we have business to attend to first, once everyone's arrived.”

The door slid open and in strode Bronco Buster. Precisely 10:00 AM, punctual as always. The lower half of her face was framed by wavy blonde locks. The top half of her face was obscured by the Stetson that she kept pulled down at all times. Her spurs jingled as she made her way around the table and took her place at Jacky's right hand. Not for the first time, Jacky wondered why B. B. wore the spurs; so far as she could tell, horse riding was not part of Bronco Buster's schtick. If it was a schtick. There was so much Jacky didn't really know about B.B., even though they'd worked together for years.

As was her habit, Bronco Buster dropped into her seat, leaned backwards, rested her heels on the edge of the table, and nestled her hands behind her head. She offered no greeting and, by this point, her teammates had come not to expect one. Except Zoe.

“Hiya, B.B.! How's it going? How's your week been? I stopped a bank robbery on Wednesday! It was sooooo cooooool! I got my picture in the local paper and everything! I heard you stopped a jewelry story robbery! Tell me all about it! How was it? Tell me everything!”

Zoe still couldn't believe that she got to hang out with superheroes. Heck, she couldn't believe that she was now a superhero herself! She'd always dreamed of this day and now that she was here she wasn't about to contain her excitement just because people told her to shut up or that her constant, overboiling excitement and utter lack of internal monologue made her excruciating to be around. After all, she figured, they were just ragging on the new girl, right?

The cowgirl sat, turning her head slightly to regard the rubber girl, and considered her options. Ah'll be durned, she thought, if'n that young fillie settin' at the end of the table don't have uh good deal more words runnin' outta her mouth than swirlin' 'round inside her head. She looked upward, musing. But then again, ah s'pose 'tain't fair tah hold others tah the exactin' standards by which ah measure mahself. Mah mama taught me when ah was a young'un that 'twere better tah keep mah fool mouth shut, less'n ah was certain mah voice'd improve upon the silence. Seein' as how that's seldom the case, ah s'pose ah've developed a bit of a reputation fer bein' jus a mite on the taciturn side. Which ain't tah say ah don't find that reputation right pleasin'. But fer the question at hand, no mattter what direction ah twist an' turn it, er how ah look at it, ah can't see as there's any percentage tah be gained in swappin' war stories in this partic'lar situation, other'n tah commit foul murder upon the melifluous silence. Though I s'pose that silence is doomed tah die shortly anyway, but that don't mean ah need tah have any part in the deed.

At last, Bronco Buster formulated a response that she felt confident was wholly adequate to settle the matter once and for all.

“Nope.”

“Another brilliant novel from our resident cowgirl poet!” snarked Veronica. The debutante heroine nestled into her chair and contemplated the nails of her left hand, still perfect, whilst impatiently drumming the fingers of her right hand on the table, “Since I have places to be, I would deeply prefer if we could start this little meeting of yours on time, Jacky-dear. Since you are the leader of this little team, perhaps you could show a bit of leadership and drag dear little Daisy in now rather than waiting around for fifteen minutes, only to discover she's gotten distracted on the way by a particularly fetching patch of paint on the wall?”

A grinding of teeth signaled Jacky's displeasure at being ordered around, once again, by her teammate. What infuriated Jacky all the more was that Veronica wasn't wrong. Still, she wasn't going to just do her bidding; she had to do something to maintain her aura of command.

“B.B.,” Jacky turned to face her cowgirl comrade, “Would you mind fetching Daisy?”

The cowgirl fixed Jacky with a sidelong glance, cocked her left eyebrow slightly, then wordlessly got up and sauntered out of the room.

Veronica, with a satisfied smirk, turned her attention to Zoe.

“Now, Zoe, dear, I can't help noticing you didn't ask me about my week. Aren't you even the least bit curious what I've been up to?” she said, pouting to show how deeply, deeply hurt she was by Zoe's failure to express interest in the goings on in her life.

Zoe looked as though she had just been accused of kicking a puppy. “Oh, my gosh, I am sooooo sorry, Veronica! I really, really, really want to hear all about your week! Tell me everything!”

Not even Jacky's exaggerated eye roll could stop Veronica from launching in to her appointed weekly humble brag about her glamorous life. Not that she needed to tell anyone anything about her doings; every moment of her life as both Veronica LeGrange and the Velvet Glove was extensively documented in both old and new media, to a degree unknown to any other human being in the history of existence. As Veronica rattled off a catalog of grand openings, red carpet galas, and thwarted heists, Zoe nodded along, wide-eyed and genuinely excited to be hearing a first-hand account straight from the source of all the events she had read about in the gossip mags and superheroine blogs. Jacky just rested her chin in her hand, drumming her fingers on the table.

“...And then, of course, there was the gala opening of the Municipal Opera's season. How fortunate it was that all attention was turned to the kidnappers attempting to make off with the prima donna, allowing me to change into my costume unnoticed and save the day! Of course, if I had known how sharp the prima donna's singing was going to be, I would have let them keep her!”

“So unusual to see two prima donnas in one opera...” Jacky mumbled under her breath.

“What was that?” Veronica's voice took a sharp turn as she rounded on Jacky.

“I said that it was so lucky that you kept your identity a secret! Who knows what might happen if anyone were to catch on to your double life!”

Even Zoe snorted at this. Veronica's secret identity was the worst-kept secret in the hero business. Only Veronica's extraordinarily litigious legal team kept her identity from being openly discussed in the papers, but she was such an egregious self-promoter in costume and out that only the least attentive observer could fail to have put two and two together.

After flashing a glare at Zoe that instantly cowed the young sprat, Veronica continued.

“Oh I know, these secret identities are just so difficult to keep under wraps. Still, we must always be vigilant; we wouldn't want our friends and family to be hurt by our crusades for justice.”

Jacky's next eye roll was interrupted by the return of Bronco Buster and the arrival of Daisy, better known as Flower Power. She wore a pleasant, spacy smile on her face and looked at her comrades through sleepy, half-closed eyes.

“Hello, fellow children of our glorious Earth-Mother. I'm glad to see that the universe has moved you into a space of togetherness once more on this pleasant afternoon.”

“I'd like to move my fist into a space of togetherness with your face...” grumbled Veronica.

Jacky ignored her. “Actually, Daisy, it's morning, not afternoon.”

Daisy looked slightly confused, but it passed like a zephyr in the air over a placid desert. “I believe that time is an illusion that makes us feel a sense of apartness from the glorious All-One, so I don't pay much attention to it.” Her smile broadened as she took her seat to Zoe's right.

For her part, Zoe looked befuddled. “What's the glorious All-One?”

“NO!” shouted Jacky and Veronica together. Even Bronco Buster, who had silently resumed her feet-on-the-table position, cringed at the thought of another meandering disquisition on the All-One-Love-Kind-Faith.

Jacky composed herself. She cleared her throat, straightened her back, adopted good posture, projected her voice, and began.

“I hereby call the two-hundred-sixty-fourth weekly meeting of the Femme Defenders to order. Jacky-of-All-Trades presiding as president. Madame Secretary, will you take the roll?”

“We're all here except Future Girl,” said Veronica.

“You know we have to do the roll call. It's in the charter. Why do you always fight me on this?” Jacky said.

“Fine,” Veronica decided it wasn't worth dragging this meeting out by having the same argument over again. “The Velvet Glove present and accounted for. Is Bronco Buster present?”

“Yep,” said Bronco Buster.

“Bronco Buster present and accounted for. Is Flower Power present?”

“I am occupying a tempero-spacial place that is both near, and yet not near, to you as you ask that question. And while my consciousness may be cruising the universe on a philosophico-ethical head trip, my body is located in a proximity to your oneness, and-”

“Flower Power present and accounted for. Is... Ummmm.... Elastigirl present?”

“Oh! Well, so, it turns out that there was already a heroine named Elastigirl! They even made a movie about her! That's probably where I got the name from, now that I think about it. Anyhow, I was thinking maybe... Elastic Lass? Or... Oh! Lexie Glass! Sorta like Plexiglass, but if it were a girl's name?”

“Sure! That's a good name!” Jacky nodded, trying her best to be encouraging, “But... how are you like Plexiglass?”

“Like... how... it's moldable? I guess?”

“But once you mold it, it stays hard. That's the big thing about Plexiglass, it doesn't shatter and is super-tough. That's fine, but... You're kinda the opposite of rigid and inflexible.”

Zoe visibly drooped into her chair, then stretched her neck out to lay her chin, defeated, on the table.

“Ugh! I'll never find a good superheroine name for myself!”

“Keep trying!” Jacky smiled, “You'll find one some day.”

“So, not to interrupt this little cheering up party, but what do I mark down?” Veronica said, entirely uninterested in Zoe's quest for a heroic identity.

“Just mark her down as Zoe,” said Jacky.

“Okay. Zoe present and accounted for. Finally, is Future Girl present?” Veronica cocked an eyebrow significantly.

Silence. Everyone looked a little abashed, thinking about Future Girl's humiliating final confrontation with Doctor Malevolent and her subsequent retirement. Still, they needed to keep her on the rolls for now to keep their mandatory minimum membership under their UN charter.

“Future Girl not present. Madame President, we have five out of six members present, meeting our quorum for a meeting. There, are you happy?”

“Very,” Jacky smiled, “Now, before we move on to new business, there is one piece of old business I'd like to discuss. Last week Zoe suggested we give casual Fridays a try, and I tabled the motion for a week to give everyone a chance to think it over. Let's take care of that now. Zoe?”

“Oh! Well, I was just thinking that since we, like, know each other, why should we have to get all dressed up every week just to have our meetings? It might help us be, I dunno, more friendly with each other?” said Zoe.

“I disagree,” said the Velvet Glove, “I need a test audience for my new costumes, and I'd feel silly if I were the only one wearing my uniform.”

“Actually, I agree with Velvet Glove, but for different reasons,” said Jacky-of-All-Trades, “I really think it's important to maintain a sense of professionalism. Lawyers wear suits, police officers wear uniforms, all to keep an air of decorum. The costumes help us stay 'in character' when we're in these meetings and helps us to put petty, personal squabbles aside.”

“When you put it that way, I'm changing my vote,” said the Velvet Glove, “I definitely want casual Fridays. Question: How casual does it have to be? Because Friday is my busy night and it would be immensely helpful if I could prep for the evening before coming in for these meetings.”

“Oh! Um...” Zoe was flustered and confused by the shifting allegiances, “I guess it doesn't have to be casual casual. Like, you could wear a fancy dress or whatever, I just meant, like, no uniforms...”

“I don't, like, believe in uniforms...” said Flower Power.

Realizing she had lost, Jacky-of-All-Trades let out a sigh. “Fine, let's vote. I'm voting Nay.”

“Nay,” added Bronco Buster. Ah'm uh mite bit miffed that nobody even bothered tuh ask me 'bout mah opinion on the matter, not that ah'd uh been 'specially forthcomin' 'bout it. Ah s'pose after askin' mah opinion on 'bout a thousand uh these silly motions an rule changes an wherefores an whatnots an getting' cold silence in return, that maybe they'd gotten tired uh askin'. Still, woulda been nice tuh be consulted.

“Aye!” smirked Velvet Glove.

“Aye,” said Flower Power.

“Okay, then, I guess the ayes have it...” said Jacky.

“Wait! I haven't voted!” said Zoe.

“But it's your motion. Are you really going to vote against it?”

“Oh! Well, hearing you talk, and thinking about it some more, I thought, I dunno, I didn't come here to hang out with a bunch of regular people. I joined so I could hang out with super heroines. And it doesn't feel very super-hero-y if we're all just, ya know, wearing t-shirts and jeans. So.... I guess I vote nay?”

“Oh! Well, okay, then! I guess the bill is defeated! Umm... I couldn't find my gavel this morning. Zoe, could you do the honors?”

“Certainly!” Zoe beamed as she changed her right hand into the shape of a gavel and banged it once, definitively, on the table.

“Alright,” Jacky continued, “New business. As you all know, our UN charter requires us to maintain a minimum active membership of six. With the departure of Dragon Lady and Onyx Stiletto and Sparrowhawk, who left to join...” she let out a little sigh, “Social Justice Warriors, and with Future Girl's recent... retirement, we're down to five active members. I talked with our UN liaison on Wednesday and, while they've been giving us some leeway in light of our recent loss, they can't let us go understaffed forever.”

“I don't see why we even need a UN charter,” said Velvet Glove, “They barely give us a pittance, compared to my generous funding, and they have all those rules.”

“We need the UN because they give us authority to operate in any of their member states, which is basically every country on Earth. Plus I'm not comfortable becoming entirely reliant on a single funding source...”

Jacky-of-All-Trades didn't add, because it wasn't necessary, that the UN funding was the single lifeline that kept the Femme Defenders from being wholly dependent on Velvet Glove's largess. Without the UN and Jacky pushing back against Velvet Glove, they'd all be nothing more than VG's sidekicks.

“Well, it isn't as though we're doing much outside the United States, anyway. I'm sure we could arrange things...”

“This isn't up for debate. We need a new member and that's final.”

“Fine! Though, honestly, if it were up to me we'd be cutting a few members.” Velvet Glove glanced significantly at Flower Power, who remained blissfully oblivious, swaying her head gently as she listened to music only she could hear.

Meanwhile, Zoe was practically bouncing out of her seat with excitement. “Whoooooo iiiiiisss iiiiiiitttt? I want to meet the new people! This is soooo fun! Is it Stupendous Girl? Is it the Iron Maiden? The Silk Shadow? La Femme Fantastique? Oh my God, IS IT ARTEMIS?”

“Calm down, Zoe! It's none of them,” Jacky tried to be as soothing as possible; the last thing she wanted was for Zoe to boil over with enthusiasm and explode into a sticky mess all over the conference room. Again.

“Oh,” Zoe sat back in her seat, clearly a bit disappointed. “Well, who's auditioning, then?”

“Well...” Jacky gulped. Time to launch into her pitch. “I think we need to face reality. The Femme Defenders are not exactly the most... prestigious team to be on.” Jacky continued over a snort from Velvet Glove, “I put out feelers a few weeks ago and... the pickings are a bit slim...”

Zoe was wide-eyed, “Huh? Why wouldn't anyone want to be on a super team? How many applicants do we have? Like, ten?”

Silence.

“Five?”

Silence.

“Three?”

Jacky knew she couldn't keep it secret any more. “One. We have one person who wants to join our team.”

“Oh! Well... I guess that's not so bad! That means when we let her in, she'll be happy and we won't have to disappoint anyone by rejecting them!”

“No, we'll just have to disappoint her by accepting her,” smirked Velvet Glove.

Jacky continued, ignoring Velvet Glove's snide remark, “Now, we could wait to see if anyone else applies. But the UN is getting impatient and I do really think this applicant could be a big help. She'd really round out the team.”

“I'm in favor of all forms of joining as a step on the path to the glorious All-One,” said Flower Power.

“Lovely. What do you mean she rounds us out? Who is it? Just spit it out already!” said Velvet Glove.

“Okay. So. Our applicant is...” Jacky couldn't delay any longer. She took a deep breath, pushing down the butterflies in her stomach, and closed her eyes, “Mind Mistress.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” blurted Velvet Glove.

“I might not be entirely in sync with unifying with someone of her... aura,” offered Flower Power.

“Gee, I guess she's not my faaaaaavorite...” said Zoe.

Even Bronco Buster was moved to comment, “Ah don't rightly know 'bout that.”

“Look, I know she's unpopular, but she needs a team. And haven't we all been where she is now? I founded the Femme Defenders to be a place where superpowered women who were ignored or pushed out by the male-centric superhero community could find a home. I know I'm not the only one of us who's been rejected by or removed from other teams,” she glanced at Velvet Glove, who sneered in reply, “I think we can be good for Mind Mistress, and I think she can be good for us.”

“Okay, first of all, I've only been removed from one team, and that team was the Justice Squad,” the Velvet Glove said, “That is A-list. I am an A-lister. And the only reason I was removed was because of their stupid bullshit morality clause. That is NOT the same as Mind Mistress. She's been kicked off of... Let's see, how many teams? The Justice Squad, of course, then the Justice Federation, then the Insiders, then the Society of Extraterrans for Peace and Prosperity... am I forgetting anyone?”

“I think the Young Defenders kicked her out, but I'm pretty sure that's just because she lied about how old she was...” Zoe offered.

“REGARDLESS. We all know she's been kicked off of a lot of teams,” said Jacky, “But I'm sure there were extenuating circumstances behind all of those removals! Probably.”

“Honestly? I don't care. We don't need her, and we don't need another team member. I'm ready to vote now,” said Velvet Glove, sitting back definitively.

“Let's at least meet her first, okay?” said Jacky. She reached over to the control panel that sat in front of her on the conference table and pressed the intercom, “Mind Mistress, you may come in now.”

The metal door of the conference room slid open and a tall woman with green skin, short, curly, and slightly disheveled purple hair, violet eyes, and an arrogant bearing walked in. Her back was straight and her walk had minimal sway, as though she were a soldier on parade. She wore a yellow-and-black skin-tight outfit and an olive drab military-type jacket, along with a belt and latex gloves and boots. She walked straight to the single empty chair and stood behind it, then surveyed the room.

At the head of the table was a young white woman, five foot seven by Mind Mistress's estimation, probably thirty-one years old, with brown eyes and brown hair in a ponytail. The woman's red spandex outfit, accented by yellow briefs, belt, cape, gloves, and boots, along with the exploding “J” logo on her chest, identified her as Jacky-of-All-Trades, real name Jacquelyn Baxter.

Mind Mistress instantly recalled her review of the Justice Squad's extensive metahuman database. Jacky-of-All-Trades: A human attorney of above-average intelligence who, while working late one evening, was electrocuted by an internet-connected computer during a freak zeta particle storm. The upshot of her accident was the instant download of vast quantities of information into the woman's overstimulated brain. The effect was two-fold: Jacky knew a moderate amount of information about nearly everything, with instant recall. And, more interestingly, Jacky had acquired muscle memory and general know-how about essentially every area of human endeavor. She could pick up any task and, without training or practice, instantly perform it with moderate proficiency, anything from archery to gymnastics to flying a jet. Of course, she couldn't perform any task with expertise. Useful in the right circumstances, but her lack of mastery meant she was generally over-matched when alone. This led her to seek out teams and, when none wanted her, to found one of her own. Mind Mistress also recalled a note about her politics: Left-leaning, with a generalized feminist emphasis.

To Jacky's right sat Veronica LeGrange, alias the Velvet Glove. A scowling woman with black hair, green eyes, and a purple costume. The outfit had a deep V running nearly to her genitalia. Mind Mistress quickly determined that some form of adhesive must have been used to prevent exposure of the woman's mammarial pappila, or “nips” as the humans of this era seemed inclined to refer to them. A skirt ran down to her ankles, though long slits on both sides ensured that both of the woman's legs were on prominent display. A quick survey of the woman's outfit and physique cross-referenced with various popular magazines of this era led Mind Mistress to determine, with 97.5% certainty, that Velvet Glove was in the top tenth of a percentile in terms of beauty as assessed by this culture.

Mind Mistress recalled that Veronica was the heiress to the LeGrange fortune, and her primary occupation seemed to be “socialite”. She had a number of vanity projects, fashion lines, furniture, make-up, tell-all books, both in her real name and in her secret identity. Based on a cursory financial analysis, Mind Mistress could not determine a single set of circumstances under which any of Veronica's enterprises could be profitable. Indeed, Ms. LeGrange's finances were almost certainly supplemented by generous gifts from her father, Victor LeGrange, president and CEO of LeGrange Security, the world's top supplier and developer of UltraMax prison facilities for the secure containment of metahuman offenders. Based on the tell-tale metal finish of the walls and fixtures of the Femme Defenders' base, Mind Mistress extrapolated that this facility was, itself, built by LeGrange Security. Interesting. Something to be investigated later.

The origin of Velvet Gloves powers were a mystery, though under the circumstances they were almost certainly bought. The story given by Velvet Glove to newspapers, about a radioactive meterorite, was simply too silly to be given any credence. More likely her super-strength was the result of probably-illegal research done by her father's company.

Next was Flower Power, whose real name was Daisy Waterfall Moonflower. She had dirty blonde hair that fell loosely down to her waist and was decorated with both a flower in her ear and a hempen headband around her forehead. She wore a loose white blouse and a flowing tie-dyed skirt, along with brown moccasins that, based on the context in which they appeared, were almost certainly vegan faux-leather. Mind Mistress smiled at this.

Flower Power was raised in a commune in Berkeley, where she stayed to attend university. A bright and politically active child, she had been instrumental in organizing a protest against a chemical plant being built in a neighboring city. While trying to infiltrate and film the plant in search of environmental and safety violations, Daisy had fallen into a vat of chemicals, then escaped through a drainage pipe. Somehow the combination of chemicals altered her physiology, giving her astounding strength. It also had what could best be described as a mellowing effect on her psyche. She subsequently dropped out of school and became involved with a lot of metaphysical claptrap, which Mind Mistress had found too boring and nonsensical even to read about. Mind Mistress noted that her powers seemed to largely overlap with those of Velvet Glove. She made a note of that for future exploration.

Next, wide-eyed and vibrating, was... Mind Mistress's lip turned down slightly in annoyance. This one had a bunch of names. Plastic Girl, Plastic Woman, Ms. Fantastic, Elongated Lass, Elastic Girl, Elastigirl, Elastiwoman. Regardless, her real name was Zoe Thompson. Just eighteen years old, she had only acquired powers in the last six months when she learned that her metabolism reacted in strange ways to the combination of plant extracts found in a particular brand of energy drink. She had previously been a “superhero fangirl” and now was clearly on the verge of vibrating out of her clothes with excitement. She had red hair in a bob, blue eyes, a tiny, retroussé nose, and freckles on a round face that Mind Mistress was 83% confident would be deemed by most to be “adorable.” She wore an armless, legless neon green body suit with a laced-up v-neckline, accented by a yellow stripe around the waist.

Finally, to Jacky's left was a woman in anachronistic clothing reminiscent of a cattle hand in the American west in the mid-to-late Nineteenth Century. She wore a brown Stetson hat, a white button-down shirt, an unbuttoned brown leather vest, and blue jeans that rode low on her hips. Around her waist was a belt with two prominently displayed holsters, in which sat silver revolvers with pearl grips. Her feet, which were on the table, were clad in brown boots with fringe on the sides and spurs on the heels. Where the other women in the room all stared at Mind Mistress expectantly, this one ignored her. The only feature Mind Mistress could make out was a cascade of wavy blonde hair that fell to the woman's shoulders.

This must be Bronco Buster. Real name unknown. She had appeared a few years earlier, stopped a bank robbery, then just kept appearing, fighting crime as needed, not talking with media. Or anyone for that matter. One day she had walked into a meeting of the Femme Defenders, sat down, and shortly thereafter was made a member. The puzzling lack of data on Bronco Buster disturbed Mind Mistress. She decided to make it a top priority to discover more about her.

Jacky stood up. “Everyone, this is Mind Mistress. Mind Mistress, my name is-”

“I know who you are,” Mind Mistress said with a dismissive wave of her hand, a gesture she had grown so accustomed to that she did it almost instinctively, “in fact, I know who all of you are. I realize that introductions are customary in this time and culture, but, if I may be blunt, I find them to be a waste of time and energy. I know everything I need to know about you already, so I propose that we skip your half of the introductions and proceed to your questions of me, if any.”

“Seconded,” Velvet Glove grinned. She looked like the cat that ate the canary, gleeful at the prospect of tearing down this rival to her dominance of the team.

“Oh! Um, well...” Jacky awkwardly sat back down, “I suppose it might be helpful if you told us a little about yourself. Maybe just where you're from and, er, why your skin is that... interesting color?” Jacky stumbled over her words, realizing as she started speaking that it might not be polite to ask a question that could be potentially racially fraught.

“Certainly. My story begins far in my past, which is your future, in the year 2956, when colonists from Earth first settled my home planet, Bolx, which would be known in your era as Epsilon Terpsichore IV. While Bolx was rich in mineral wealth, particularly Neutronium, a chemical essential in the formulation of fuel for superluminal travel, the arid planet proved uniquely inhospitable to human habitation. The first decade of existence was rather difficult, and-”

“I am literally about to die of boredom. Please skip ahead,” interrupted Velvet Glove. Jacky shot her an annoyed glance, but wasn't entirely displeased with the result. Flower Power appeared to be paying neither more nor less attention than she did to everything else, while Zoe was the lone team member who appeared disappointed not to be getting the long version of Mind Mistress's origin story.

“Very well. My real name is Valx Bril-Stram. I am a Bolxanite. Centuries ago the process was begun to breed a mutation into the Bolxanite sub-species that binds chlorophyl into our skin cells, as a way to deal with the problem of scarce food resources and ample sunlight. As such, I have green skin.”

“Great. Let's vote now,” said Velvet Glove impatiently.

“Not yet! Valx, why don't you tell us how you came to be on Earth in our time,” Jacky said. Velvet Glove let out an exaggerated, exasperated sigh, rolling her head backwards along with her eyes. Zoe, contrariwise, looked fascinated, her eyes expanding by half as she nodded along to Mind Mistress's story, mouth agape.

“Gladly. For reasons that are both too complicated for your meager intellects and likely too boring to waste your time discussing,” here Valx shot a sidelong glance at Velvet Glove, “I was educated on Earth where, as something of a lark, I dropped out of school and enrolled in Space Patrol Academy. I received top marks and, from my station at Space Patrol HQ, revolutionized the algorithm used to map anti-piracy patrols, leading to a 23.8% reduction in piracy incidents over my first six months on duty. That, along with my certified twelfth-level hyper-intelligence, attracted the attention of the Cohort of Galactic Heroes, the galaxy's premier law enforcement and military agency in the Thirty-Sixth Century. I was stationed with a succession of partners, each of whom soon grew jealous of my staggering intellect, leading them to file unflattering, and frankly untrue, after-action reports. At last, I was stationed, alone, in Galactic Heroes HQ, where I was tasked with research and development.”

“That's so mean of them!” shouted Zoe.

“Indeed,” said Valx, raising an eyebrow and continuing her story, “In that capacity I was working on an experimental time bubble. Somehow it activated, through no fault of my own, and crashed here, in the year 2010. I have been stranded here for the past four years and, despite the messages I have left in unbreakable capsules in places where I know my comrades in the Cohort are certain to find them, none of my friends from the future have thus far come back in time to retrieve me.”

“So the Cohort of Galactic Heroes makes six teams ejected from...” mumbled Velvet Glove.

Jacky cleared her throat, “So, why don't you just build another time machine?”

“A time bubble, not a time machine. I would, but your technology is simply too primitive. I would need to invent three new industries and advance them by several hundred years just to have the crudest of tools necessary to machine the needed replacement parts. Naturally, I have started that process already, but in the meantime I need something to occupy my time. As my training is in law enforcement, I determined that a career in superheroism might prove diverting.”

Jacky surveyed the room. Nobody seemed particularly enthusiastic, except, of course, Zoe. Jacky cleared her throat. “Well, hmmm, any other questions?”

Veronica raised her hand with a smirk, “I have one. How on Earth can we be expected to socialize with a green-skinned skank without people figuring out our secret identities?”

“I believe I can answer that, though first I must dispute several of the implicit premises. First, I do not believe my sexual promiscuity is especially relevant to this discussion, particularly given that, based on a cursory review of news reports and the prominent pictorial feature that lead to your removal from the Justice Squad, it seems that a permissive attitude with respect to sexual activities is no bar to membership on this team.” At this, Velvet Glove blushed and ground her teeth. “Second, also implicit in the question is the assumption that the public has not yet figured out your identities. A back-of-the-envelope calculation before my arrival leads me to believe that roughly 13.1% of the general population has determined Jacky-of-All-Trade's identity, while 35.6% have figured out Flower Power's identity, 97.8% have determined Velvet Glove's identity, and 100% have determined Zoe's identity because, near as I can tell, she doesn't yet have a fixed secret identity.”

“Ooops!” said Zoe, sinking down into her chair.

“The only one of you to have fully preserved her identity is Bronco Buster. At this stage, I am unaware of anyone who knows her true identity, other than herself.” For half a second, Mind Mistress registered a hint of a smile playing across Bronco Buster's lips.

“But to answer your question, I think a demonstration will suffice.” Mind Mistress raised two fingers to her temple and massaged it once. This caused a strange metamorphosis to cascade downward over her body, as her hair turned from purple to strawberry blonde, her eyes turned blue, and her skin turned a healthy golden-tan. “In your time, I have assumed the identity of Valerie Brilstrom, research scientist and entrepreneur. I have programmed a simple holographic filter to make my appearance more human. By my calculations, the only people who have deciphered my identity are those I have explicitly told.”

Velvet Glove crossed her arms and pouted. “I still don't like it.”

“I have a question?” asked Flower Power, “What are your feelings on the soul-essence of the All-One? In the future, have humans finally actualized their potential as miniature God-and-Goddess-beings and become the luminescent soul-flowers of their destiny?”

Mind Mistress was flummoxed. She just stared at Flower Power for long seconds, the longest she'd ever had to think about a question. At last she spoke. “That is the least coherent thing I have ever heard in my life. I wouldn't begin to know how to answer it, and, honestly, I feel you should be a little ashamed of having asked it.”

For the first time anyone on the team had noticed, Flower Power's lips turned down into a frown. Jacky gulped. That would made things a bit more difficult.

“I have a question! I have a question!” Zoe was waving her right hand frantically in the air, expanding it to the size of a baseball mitt and stretching her arm about five feet up.

“Yes?”

“Oh! Ummmm.... Why is your hair purple? What's it like to have green skin? Where do you live? Do you have a favorite food? What is the FUTURE like?”

“I think that's enough, we don't have all day,” Jacky interrupted, smiling to try and avoid hurting Zoe's feelings.

“Very well. In order: Because I was born with it that way. Very similar to having other colored skin, I would imagine. I am currently between accommodations. I don't need to eat, but I am somewhat partial to cauliflower. And...” she paused as she contemplated the last question. How to summarize the future, the universe she grew up in? “The future is... different. Homier.” She almost choked up at this. Almost.

The room was silent at the unexpected display of emotion. At last, Jacky spoke.

“Well, I guess it's time to vote, unless anyone else has anything they'd like to say?”

Silence.

“Alright, I vote aye. We have a lot of strength on our team, between Velvet Glove and Flower Power, but we could maybe use a little more brain to match that brawn.”

Velvet Glove, as was her custom, spoke next. “Nay. We don't need her and we're doing perfectly fine without her,” she recalled the remark Mind Mistress had made about her promiscuity, “Plus she's kind of a bitch.”

Flower Power was next. “Usually I'm, like, very stoked for togetherness and the healing that comes with joining together in the glorious All-One, but I think maybe she needs to spend a bit more time self-actualizing before she's reached an evolutionary state of being prepared to join with our oneness? So I vote nay.”

Zoe was out of her chair the instant Flower Power stopped, talking a mile a minute. “I'm voting aye because I think we could use someone new! I know she's not suuuuuper friendly, but I think we might like her if we got to know her better, besides she's been on all those teams and she must have a lot of great stories about all the other heroes and I think that'd be fun to talk about, plus she's all smart and stuff and I feel like-”

“So that's two ayes and two nays,” interrupted Jacky. All eyes turned to Bronco Buster. Jacky was confident; quiet as Bronco Buster was, she could usually be counted on to support Jacky.

Bronco Buster sat and thought, and thought and sat. With all them eyes on me, ah know folks're getting' impatient, but durned if ah don't feel like this is uh decision of great moment an import, an it don't make uh lick uh sense tah rush it. On one hand, this here Mind Mistress seems like she might be purty useful in the right circumstances, an Jacky sure does seem tah have her heart set on puttin' her on the team. On t'other hand, durned if Mind Mistress don't seem tah be a right chatty filly, on a team what's already heavy with chatty fillies, an she seems all set tah upset what delicate balance remains. Plus, far as ah cun tell, ain't seen nothin' tah indicate that Mind Mistress would be uh lick uh help in uh fight, an that's what the team really needs now that Future Girl has gotten herself all het up an retired. Bronco Buster opened her mouth to speak:

“Don't rightly know.”

“What?! You need to make a decision, we're all tied up!” Jacky sputtered.

“Ah said ah don't rightly know, an ah'm a stick to mah guns on it.”

“Perhaps I might be of assistance in clearing this little logjam?” Mind Mistress said with a smirk. “I had prepared something as a little thank you gift for putting me on the team, but I think, perhaps, it would serve best as a way to end this debate you're having. I understand that the vacancy I'm filling was created when Future Girl was humiliated by Doctor Malevolent and retired in disgrace?”

There were general murmurs of agreement. The subject was still pretty raw and nobody, not even Velvet Glove, liked to talk about it.

“Excellent. I ran a little errand on my way in this morning. I thought you might appreciate it.” With a flourish, Mind Mistress snapped her fingers and gestured toward the door. It slid open and there, floating on a small, metallic platform, was Doctor Malevolent, bound, gagged, and stripped to his shamrock-print boxer shorts. He was unconscious, his elderly face bruised; if it weren't for all the evil he'd done they might have felt bad for the helpless old man.

Mind Mistress flicked her finger toward the table, then made a downward pointing motion. The ovoid platform floated quickly and gracefully into the room, then set itself down in the middle of the conference table. Everyone was on their feet. Zoe's eyes were literally popping out of her head.

Jacky was the first to speak. “What did you do?”

“Well, it was a simple matter to retrofit some repulsors onto a metal disc, then paint the whole thing silver. I thought you might appreciate that I was literally serving you Doctor Malevolent on a silver platter, to use the parlance of your times.”

Velvet Glove growled, “Obviously she means how did you capture Doctor Malevolent!”

“Oh, that!” Mind Mistress laughed, “Well, I know he likes to style himself the fourth-smartest person in the world. Unfortunately, that's the fourth-smartest on this world, in this time period, which, in all humility, wouldn't place him in the twentieth percentile of intellects on Bolx, let alone make him a match for a twelfth-level hyper-intelligence like myself. I won't bore you with the details,” here, again, she looked significantly at Velvet Glove, “But let's just say I easily tracked his whereabouts based on the distribution pattern of the tapes of Future Girl's defeat. From there it was a simple task to evade his, frankly, embarrassingly simple security measures, then truss him up and bring him here. Now have I, perhaps, altered your decision?”

Once again, everyone looked at Bronco Buster, who had tipped up her Stetson and was now staring at Doctor Malevolent, giving a rare glimpse at her baby blue eyes and the long scar that ran down the left side of her face. At last she spoke.

“Yup. Ah'm a changin' mah vote tah aye.”

Jacky was elated. “Well! I guess that means you're on the team! Welcome aboard, Mind Mistress. Meeting adjourned! Now, let's get in touch with the liaison and tell him we have a new resident for the UltraMax...”

Velvet Glove scowled as she flounced from the room. Bronco Buster stood, walked over, and silently offered Mind Mistress her hand to shake. Ordinarily Mind Mistress wouldn't bother with such pointless pleasantries, but under the circumstances she decided it was appropriate to engage. She gingerly took Bronco Buster's hand, which gripped hers with surprising strength, and gave it a few perfunctory shakes. Flower Power had gone back to staring into space, while Zoe was, literally, bouncing off the walls in ball form, releasing all the energy that she had kept pent up during the meeting.

Jacky practically skipped out of the room on her way back to her quarters.

“Oh, if I might, Jacky?” Mind Mistress's words pulled Jacky out of her jubilant state, “I have one hundred thirty seven suggestions on how you might lead this team more effectively. I thought I could offer the dozen or so most vital to you now, verbally, and the remainder by memorandum soon to follow. Just a few observations I made while you were conducting the meeting and while I was on my way in to your headquarters...”

Jacky sighed. The butterflies returned to her stomach as she realized that today's battle might, ultimately, turn out to be a Pyrrhic victory...