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[personal profile] wonder_city
Happy sixth anniversary to us! More things to be said tomorrow; for now, please enjoy this finale for Volume 3, with its special surprise just for you all.






Everything Dies

Angelica was changing into her new dress in Madame's bedroom—carefully, carefully, so as not to muss either hair or makeup, done professionally less than an hour earlier—when she heard the commotion out in front of the house. X knocked on the door a few moments later and said, "Our chariot is here."

"Come give me a hand?" Angelica said, after struggling with her dress halfheartedly and deciding she'd rather have a handsome helper. She deserved it for dealing with today.

X came into the room. Sie was wearing an exquisitely tailored black three-piece suit and a snow-white dress shirt with French cuffs and onyx rose cufflinks. The tie was deep blue silk with a pattern of pale grey gingko leaves, and was restrained by an onyx rose tie clip that matched the links. Angelica gave a low whistle.

"You're too kind," X said with a small smile. "What can I do?"

"Help me get it past my hair?" Angelica said.

X crossed the room and held the dress away from her hair and face as Angelica slid it on.

"There," X said, helping her settle it over her back and hips.

Angelica turned and inspected zir work and nodded. This dress was her first investment with her new fortune: tea-length A-line black silk brocade dress with a halter top that looked like sashes drawn up over her boobs and tied behind her neck in a draped bow. The brocade pattern was in broad stripes and the skirt of the dress was embroidered with silver stars in the spangled pattern from Jane Liberty's best-known costume. She'd commissioned one of the talented young people she knew from Queer Energy to design and make it for her, and though there were a few minor issues with the design, the dress was amazing overall.

One last glance in the mirror: was the makeup still where it was put? Yes. Black hair still sleek and glossy? Yes. She slid on her sunglasses and took a deep breath. "Okay, let's go."

X handed her the black clutch she'd set down in the nearby chair and walked her out to the front door.

The Gold Stars jet transport had landed in the street in front of Madame's little suburban house. Most of the other Forgottens were out there waiting for her. Most of the neighbors were out on their lawns, gawping.

Ira was wearing the suit of Mister Metropolitan blue that Angelica had ordered for him, with a black armband. Andrea was wearing a black pantsuit she'd had from another funeral, but she had graciously allowed Angelica to foot the bill for doing her hair. Simon, all in black, sported a fresh haircut and beard trim. Ivy, interestingly, wore a suit that matched her brother's, and her hair (normally worn in an afro) sleeked back to carry through the similarity.

Tinkermel, subdued in a black tuxedo with purple sequined waistcoat and bowtie, was chatting with Madame, who wore a long black dress and gauzy black wrap with an enormous black cartwheel of a sunhat. Tizemt, in a long black Berber coat with intricate gold embroidery over a plain black tunic and slacks, was helping Madeline adjust her pillbox hat without mussing her hair too much.

Lady Justice looked uncomfortable in her Army Dress Blues: blue skirt, black pumps, dark blue coat, and the dark gold "Bulletproof" beret. She was all Army ribbons down the front, plus a loop of blue and gold braid on her right shoulder (Angelica vaguely remembered reading somewhere that it was some sort of "bulletproof on the front line" decoration). Angelica stopped in front of her and said, "Are the silver eagles new? I thought majors had oak leaves. But ignore me if I'm wrong—everything I know about the Army is from M*A*S*H reruns."

"No, no, you're right," Lady J said with a tense smile, touching one of the eagles at her collar. "I, ah, I'm not sure what to do about it. I'm retired, but they promoted me. Two ranks. It's kind of uncomfortable."

"Oh, stop," Madeline said. "Without you, everyone would still be mind-controlled."

"Seriously," Angelica said. "Given all the grief the VA has given you, it seems like small change."

"They're paying up on her pension too," Madame said. "Finally."

Tinkermel whistled. "That's gonna be a very pretty little lump sum for back pay."

Lady J cleared her throat. "Perhaps we ought to be going. I learned a long time ago never to make a President wait."

"Yessir, Colonel, sir!" Ira said with a grin and a salute that Angelica figured was pretty snappy for an old guy.

"You quit teasing and get moving," Andrea said, giving him a little push.

The Gold Stars transport was surprisingly posh inside, with comfortable seats that could recline and had all the bells and whistles, like a viewscreen, popout keyboard, and earphone jacks. Ensconced in one corner was a curvaceous black woman in a splendid royal blue dress, hat, and gloves.

"Hi, all," she said, waving as they entered. "I'm Renata Scott."

Angelica would have taken the seat farthest from the world's most powerful telepath, except that Mel had already claimed it. (Lady J headed over to sit with Renata, so Angelica felt a little less guilty.) "You sit with me, girl," Mel said, patting the seat next to him. "After all, I get you as arm candy, right?"

She carefully settled down and gave him some of her best side-eye. "Since when have you wanted this kind of arm candy?"

"I can appreciate the aesthetics," he said cheerfully as he fastened his safety belt. "Besides, tell me I'm not the only person here tall enough for you."

Tizemt, as if in answer to that dare (at her something-over-seven-feet tall), took the seat next to Angelica. "So where's our clear thinker?" she said.

Angelica snorted. "At work, of course." She thought about the fruitless conversation where she attempted to convince Kendis that there would be no press for the meeting before the funeral. "She said she'll watch us on the TV there."

"That's a shame," Tizemt said. "She was really key to how things went down."

"She wants no publicity at all," Mel said. "Didn't even want her name brought up in front of anyone else. She's just 'an unknown para'."

"We have a few of those," Angelica said.

Sekhmet of the Gold Stars popped her bronze-helmeted head out of the cockpit and said, "Is everyone aboard and secure?"

Everyone glanced around and nodded. Lady J, of course, audibly counted heads and then said, "We're set."

Sekhmet smiled, nodded, and flipped the appropriate switches to close the rear hatch. "Takeoff in about 2 minutes," she said, then went back into the front.



My now-familiar-again headache was just starting—small space, lots of active minds right close in to me—when we disembarked at Fort Wilson. As we were getting off the transport, I noticed both X and Madame were staying behind. When I cocked a curious look at X, sie smiled and said, "The Oracle doesn't behave very well with heads of state. I'll go in with just Madame after you all are done."

I gave zir a sympathetic grimace and followed the rest of the crew.

We were ushered into the main headquarters building by soldiers who certainly knew they couldn't do a damned thing to stop some of us if we were there bent on mischief. They even went through the farce of running the metal detector wand over us. (Though I sort of braced myself for Tinkermel to set it off, he didn't. I don't know whether that was because he hadn't brought anything, or because his fairy wands had no metal in them.)

Then the big wooden doors opened and there he was, the President, black suit, blue tie, and big smile, coming out from behind his desk with a hand out. The First Lady was also there. Her makeup didn't quite entirely conceal the healing two-inch-long scar along the side of her neck. I'd heard it was from a bayonet she encountered while leading the assault to break her husband out of his prison during the just-post-broadcast portion of overthrowing the aliens.

"Mr. Feldstein, I hear we very nearly lost you," the President said. "I'm very glad we didn't."

Ira puffed his chest out, shook hands firmly, and tried not to show how close I could tell he was to crying. "I can't think of a better reason or way to go, sir, but I'm glad I stuck around."

The President smiled and turned to Andrea, and things started to blur out for me in combined anxiety and overwhelm. I only heard a few things through the chaos inside my skull, and saw only a bit more, like how fine the sight of Tinkermel and the President talking together was, and noticing that Lady Justice was the only white Anglo person in the room, since Madame was still out in the transport.

Then the President was right there, saying, "Ms. Scott, thank you so much for coming. I can only guess how difficult this is for you."

I put my gloved hand out and said, "Sir, I wouldn't have missed this for the world." His hand was big and warm, and the shake was firm and friendly.

The First Lady said, "We wouldn't have a world if it weren't for you and these other folks." Their handshakes were very similar, though she held my hand a moment longer to add, "Thank you."

Their minds (I was trying so hard to rein everything in, but there's still the mindfeel, you know?) were both a pile of anxiety from being this close to me.

I pulled myself together and said, "Could I get a photo with the two of you? It would mean so much to my mother."

They graciously agreed, and an official photographer moved into position. I have nothing but respect for these people: despite understandable fears, they stood right close to me, and the President put his arm around my shoulders for the photo. Not every President would have had the courage to do that.

I had just come out of my haze of excitement when the President left Lady Justice and approached Madeline. As he shook her hand, he said, "Ms. Fukuda, I want to be, I understand, the first President of the United States to offer you this country's official apologies for what was done to you during the Second World War. I have read the entire Operation Plum Blossom file, and I am so sorry. There is no excuse for your treatment, or for the subsequent treatment of your clonesisters."

Madeline was entirely taken off guard, but masterfully pulled her shit together, as I would only expect from someone who'd been talking about horrible war crap for most of her life. She drew herself up with all the matriarchal dignity she could muster — which was quite a lot, for all that she looked like she was in her mid-20s — and said, "Thank you, sir. That… I did not expect this. There are really no words except 'thank you.'"

"There will be an official letter," he said. "I promise. The draft is on my desk right now."

"Thank you," she said again, more warmly, and glanced aside at Lady J. Of course, he had to be telling the truth.

After a few more moments of chatting, he and the First Lady retired back toward the desk (a desk I understand was put in this office specifically for the use of visiting Presidents) and said, "Again, thank you all for your service to this country… to the world. I'm privileged to have had this chance to meet you and talk to you. I understand there are two last folks I need to talk to, and then we can get on with what we're all here for: saying goodbye to Jane Liberty. I hope to meet all of you again sometime when we can sit down and talk."

With that dismissal, we all filed back out to the transport, passing Madame and X on their way in.

"The last time a vessel of the Oracle spoke to a president of the US in front of witnesses," Lady Justice said to us once we were back on the transport, "apparently the Oracle schooled Woodrow Wilson on several points of domestic and foreign policy, including warning him about the impending war. The government had to scramble to do damage control in the press and speculation ran rampant. The vessel of the Oracle went into hiding, but was found dead later that year."

"Better safe than sorry, is what you're saying," Ivy said.

"Goes for more than just the Oracle," Lady J said, settling back into her seat near me. "That was something in there," she said to Madeline.

I could tell Madeline was only just keeping her shit together, so I said, "Sure was. My mother is going to show that damn photo to everyone in the neighborhood until everyone's sick of my face." Which completely changed the subject to something other people cheerfully chimed into.

X looked pale and shaky when sie and Madame returned about fifteen minutes later. Madame looked grim. None of us asked any questions.

Sekhmet shut the rear hatch and told us, "Five minutes to lift."



Everyone filed silently off the transport. Everyone, that is, except Renata, who only got up to open a tall cabinet at the back of the transport and usher a golden robot into line with the group.

"She's my stunt double," Renata said with a pained smile, absently rubbing one temple with a blue-gloved finger. "It's been enough to be around all you extremely lovely people. I cannot possibly sit in front of the mob that's out there right now."

Ira went and offered his hand. "It's been awfully good to meet you in person. I always like having a face to go with the person, and I've known you for a few years now without knowing your face."

Renata smiled and hugged the old man, who looked startled but pleased. "You were a brick that first time we met, Ira, and you continue to be," she said. "You all have a good time."

Angelica leaned on Tinkermel's arm as they descended the gangplank and wished desperately that she had a robot she could send in her own place. At least neither the President nor the First Lady had anything wrong with them that showed up on Janevision. She tried not to think about the one guard in whose blood she glimpsed something troubling and ugly.

They entered the Guardians Building through the back door, and were ushered through into the main hall by a uniformed guard. The main hall was loud and echoey, the ceiling at least five stories high and all the walls and floors made of marble. The decor was full of polished brass and glossy surfaces, overlooked by a gigantic chandelier of gold Art Deco wing designs and opalescent squares of glass. The source of the noise was the crowd of people who would also be sitting on the main platform overlooking Wonder Plaza.

Angelica didn't recognize most of the people, though she spotted the little knot of costumed Young Cosmics fairly quickly. The Forgottens and the Cosmics naturally drifted toward each other.

Ivy and Simon each hugged a young white woman Angelica guessed was Nereid (the watery costume was a clue). One of the Cosmics, a very pretty young man with long white hair, was entirely restful to look at because he didn't show up on Janevision. Angelica was glad for her sunglasses so she could just keep an eye on his chiseled jaw and sculpted musculature without staring too obviously.

"He's hot, for a white boy," Mel said just to her. "Nice ass in that spandex."

"Yes indeed," Angelica said, noticing said ass for the first time. She really wasn't much about asses — more about shoulders and hands. The hands were where Kit had won her over.

She heard Andrea saying, "How long before this thing gets started?"

Ira said, "About twenty minutes, I think."

Andrea snorted. "They're gonna have to seat us soon. Think there's an awning?"

"Probably," Ira said. "They know they've got old folks, right? They don't want us keeling over of sunstroke."

"They'd have to pay for another damn funeral if that happened," Andrea grumbled.

Just then, someone came on a loudspeaker and directed everyone to line up according to their groups. Angelica guessed that the Forgottens and Cosmics were part of the "paranormal dignitaries." So did everyone else, as they lined up with a couple of older white dudes that Angelica didn't recognize, but who were apparently known to Lady J, who chatted with them.

"I feel like I'm graduating again," Ivy said.

Angelica tried not to feel bitter about her lack of graduation experience right then. She reminded herself that she had plenty of money to buy her way back into school, no need to do any soulsucking part-time jobs, and would probably have the experience sometime in the next few years. Then the line started to move and she was entirely distracted by the sea of humanity the platform overlooked.



As I settled into my chair back in my bunker, I was really glad not to be there in person. How many people had come out for Jane Liberty's memorial service? I looked out through my robot proxy's eyes and couldn't even begin to count. The news broadcasters on my screen were guessing multiple thousands in the Plaza and the overflow zones just outside it and up on Helicine Hill (where the speeches, etc, would be projected onto the side of the Perisphere for the people gathered there). The platform was packed full of officials in suits as well as the Forgottens and the Young Cosmics. To one side of the platform was an enormous, five- or six-story tall poster of Jane—one of the few World War II pictures in which she had dark hair—labeled, "Jane Liberty, Defender of Earth."

The mayor of Wonder City, who was currently a white man I hadn't voted for, and could have been, for all I knew, someone put into the office by the aliens, opened the ceremonies with a mercifully short speech that mostly bemoaned the fact that he'd never had the opportunity to meet Jane.

Given everything that had been unrolling inside my head over the last few weeks, all I could think was How lucky you were! I felt a little bad, given I was (technically) attending her memorial service and thinking thoughts about her that were, shall we say, less than positive, but given that Angelica was out there too, I was certainly not alone.

As if to pay me out for thinking like this, when they started the "musical tribute," I was immediately launched into a memory I didn't want: one of Jane's.



Jane Liberty, Defender of Earth by Alex Heberling (click to see embiggened in another window)

The well-known boppy 1940s MacBride Sisters (a government-owned knockoff of the Andrews Sisters) piece tinkled along and I was suddenly in a dark room with a tinny radio playing in the background. Someone's arms were around me and my face was pressed against the soft skin of that someone's neck. A woman's low voice crooned along with the song in my ear while she swayed me to the music, not quite with the beat: "She ain't just a plain Jane/Flies faster than an airplane/Stops Adolph's little cammmm-paiiiignnnn…"

"Stop it!" Jane said, and bit her neck. "You know I hate that damn song."

"That's why I like it," Bernie said, and though I couldn't see her face, I could tell she was smiling. "Plus it sticks in my head all the damn time. If I sing it sometimes it doesn't stick."

"Jerk," Jane said. "Anyway, why are we still wearing clothes? It's not like we get much time off these days."

I yanked myself out of that memory just in time to see the harmonizing girl trio (some pop stars or other, according to the commentators) finish up the song and the Indigo Girls launch into an old Pete Seeger tune about Jane, "Liberty Lady." It was more than a little critical of her role as a symbol of war, though the program claimed Jane was open about liking the tune and accepting the criticism late in life. (The Jane bits in my head didn't provide evidence one way or another, though I did remember that apparently Jane was an Indigo Girls fan. Who knew?)

There were a couple more pop-type songs that were about Jane. Almost entirely forgettable tunes excavated for just this purpose, sung by members of the harmonizing trio.

"And now," the commentator murmured (face obscured by my computer so I wouldn't accidentally latch onto her mind), "we move on to music that is, perhaps, more appropriate for a funeral."

I would argue that perhaps "Over the Rainbow" (the Indigo Girls again, done in the style of Israel Kamakawiwo'ole) and "What a Wonderful World" (covered by Janelle Monae) are not what I'd think would be more appropriate for a funeral, but mileage may vary. The latter, at least, gave me a more pleasant (or less intrusive-feeling) flashback to Jane meeting Louis Armstrong.

The Fat Lady emerged onto the stage in a long black gown, her dark hair drawn back tightly. She stood, solemn and composed, as the Wonder City Philharmonic started to play. The song, "Dido's Lament," was opera, unexpectedly (to me) in English:
When I am laid, am laid in earth,
May my wrongs create
No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;
Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.


It was much longer and more beautiful than the words would suggest. I was fairly certain she used her powers to give the feel of many voices echoing Remember me. From my proxy's eyes, I saw Lady Justice dabbing her eyes awkwardly with a handkerchief afterward.

Unsurprisingly, to me, at least, Janelle Monae returned to knock it completely out of the park with a heartwringing version of "Amazing Grace" that led into a full-blown gospel version of "Will the Circle Be Unbroken," with the Fat Lady and the other singers all returning to the stage. Ivy and Simon were singing along by the end, and I saw Madame's lips moving too.

… Okay, I was singing too.


Angelica's head and face hurt with the tears she was not going to shed on camera. She hadn't spent years performing on camera no matter how she was feeling without learning a certain amount of restraint and mastery of herself that way. But damn she wished she could cry right then. Fucking music… fucking musicians. She had already spent a perfectly acceptable amount of time mourning Jane Liberty, as well as being thoroughly conflicted about her own feelings about Jane's death and Jane's premeditation about it. She didn't need to spend more time performing grief.

Somewhere during Amazing Grace, Lady Justice, who'd somehow ended up sitting next to her, reached over and squeezed her hand. They held onto each other's hands for the rest of the musical tribute and beyond.

The speeches were easier. The speeches were expected. The speeches were a bunch of old white dudes talking about having met her, either briefly and significantly, or for some longer period of time. One of them (Angelica had to check the program — he was the now-retired Silver Guardian) even skeevily managed to work in a throwaway line that could have been interpreted innocently, but Angelica was pretty sure meant that he thought Jane had had a thing for him. And she might've, Angelica thought, but given that he was never mentioned in any of Jane's biographies, bets were against it.

All of them stuck entirely to what was written on their teleprompter or papers, which Angelica guessed was the best way around Lady J's truth power. Only read what's in front of you, and don't think about the truth.

The President's speech was brief and tasteful, and he sounded genuinely sad that he was the first of a long line of Presidents who would never meet Jane. He didn't throw in anything political or unrelated. And then he introduced Lady Justice.

With a final gentle squeeze of Angelica's hand, Lady Justice got up from her folding chair and slowly walked to the podium.


I watched on my screens, rather than via my proxy's eyes, as Lady J arranged her speech on the podium and looked out over the vast crowd that filled Wonder Plaza. She peered up at the sky for a moment, where I knew Ruth was hovering to stop any trouble, then cleared her throat.

"On a hot, humid evening late in the summer of 1942," she began, "I was sitting at a streetside table at a cafe here in Wonder City—it's long gone now, but it was down near the university. A skinny, dark-haired kid walked up and sat down at my table and said, 'I'm going to make a one-time offer, and you better take me up on it.'" She paused for a moment, then said, "And that was my introduction to the woman who would become Jane Liberty."

She swallowed hard and went on. "Jane was just 16 when we had that conversation, and she tried to fake her way through our impromptu interview. But as you all know, if you have looked at the warning in the program, I have a knack for making true things come out of people's mouths. But the more we talked, the more I knew that we needed to have her in the Gold Stars, not least because she was already walking the tightrope between law and crime. I also guessed that her power was much wider-ranging than she thought it was. My request for her exemption from the age limit went all the way up to our Commander in Chief. President Roosevelt approved it, as long as he got to meet our 'girl wonder." She smiled at the ripple of amusement that went through the crowd.

"Our girl wonder was even more amazing than I thought she'd be," she went on. "She was not only utterly foe-stopping on the front lines, but the perfect poster girl-next-door for the government and Army, selling everything from war bonds to better hygiene. She fought Nazis and aliens, supergeniuses and petty thieves. She busted everything she was ordered to, like a good soldier, from heads to international organized crime. She did what she was told, unless it conflicted with her morals, which were, contrary to some people's interpretations, pretty darn strict.

"She was one of the best friends I could have asked for. It breaks my heart that I missed 20 years of that friendship after I went missing in 1944. But she was there for me when I came back, just as she'd been there for the Gold Stars all along."

Lady J took a long breath and looked around the Plaza.

"While she was being the best superhero she could be, she was forced—by government and society—to hide many of the things that made her Jane. But she loved this country, and was willing to do anything for it." She cleared her throat again, and took a sip from the water glass on the podium.

"Anyone who has seen a documentary or read a book about Jane Liberty knows she was born poor to a working class family. That was the acceptable part of the story. What few people knew was that she was Latina: her mother, whose family hailed from Mexico, pretended to be Italian when they arrived in New York in the early 1920s. Her mother raised her alone after her father died young, a single mom in the big city of the 1930s.

"What nearly no one knew about Jane was that she was bisexual, and that the greatest love of her life was a woman. And no, it wasn't me," she added with a smile. "What only the President and I knew was that she voluntarily locked herself away to protect you all from herself, when she realized that her Alzheimer's disease made her a danger to the country and world she had fought to protect.

"Jane lived the fullest life she could, given her circumstances and society at large, ignoring what rules she could and trying to be the best person she could be. Like many of us, she often failed. Like many of us, she often took the consequences. And yet I can think of no one else I know who gave as much as she did over the years for this country and its people. Giving one's life is important, I'm not belittling the contributions of our soldiers and other heroes over the years. But you can generally only die once. Jane kept giving her life for her country, and the world. And she went out exactly as she'd hoped she would: doing exactly what she'd done for the last seventy years, defending the Earth.

"Twenty years ago, Jane gave her last commencement speech to a group of young women at my alma mater, Smith College, and in it, she quoted a poem by Gwendolyn Brooks. And so I will close with the same lines from the same poem, entitled, 'Speech to the Young: Speech to the Progress-Toward':
Live not for battles won.
Live not for the-end-of-the-song.
Live in the along.
"

Lady Justice turned to the enormous poster that stretched skyward on her left and delivered a crisp salute to Jane Liberty, Defender of Earth.

To resounding applause, she picked up her speech and returned to her chair.

---

Nothing could be worse than the fear that one had given up too soon, and left one unexpended effort that might have saved the world.
—Jane Addams



Date: 2015-05-10 06:46 pm (UTC)
kore: (Default)
From: [personal profile] kore
AWW JANE. That was great. And I love that drawing.

Date: 2015-05-11 01:24 am (UTC)
zeeth_kyrah: A glowing white and blue anthropomorphic horse stands before a pink and blue sky. (Default)
From: [personal profile] zeeth_kyrah
Jane looks solid in that drawing, not a skinny thing you'd see too often. I'd put that on my bomber. ;)

And these are excellent speeches. I like how everyone got around Lady J's power, too. Pre-write and don't try to analyze.

Date: 2015-05-11 02:35 pm (UTC)
akycha: (Default)
From: [personal profile] akycha
This makes me tear up every time I read it. Goddamnit.

Date: 2015-05-11 03:07 pm (UTC)
susanreads: my avatar, a white woman with brown hair and glasses (Default)
From: [personal profile] susanreads
Whoo *fans self*

Bravo. (Some of the surprises are given away by the tags, mind.)

No vote button?

Date: 2015-05-11 05:34 pm (UTC)
jinian: (chiyo)
From: [personal profile] jinian
Fuck yeah, First Lady! And Janelle Monae!

Love the Jane Liberty art (my new desktop background) and the last bit. Totally sniffling at work now, thanks.

Date: 2015-05-12 02:39 am (UTC)
heavenscalyx: (Default)
From: [personal profile] heavenscalyx
YAY! :) (She's been my work desktop background for months now. Any time I started to wibble about not being able to finish this volume, up she popped on my screen EVERY DAY at work.)

Date: 2015-05-13 04:20 am (UTC)
clstal: (Default)
From: [personal profile] clstal
YAY!!!!!!!!

Love :-)

Beautiful

Date: 2015-09-26 10:12 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I read books one and two a few months ago, and bookmarked book three to read sometime after you finished it. I just read it and thoroughly enjoyed it; overall Wonder City Stories is I think one of the three or four best pieces of prose superhero fiction I've read (I'm not just talking web serials here).

Re: Beautiful

Date: 2015-09-29 04:23 pm (UTC)
heavenscalyx: (Default)
From: [personal profile] heavenscalyx
Thank you so much! I'm very glad you're enjoying the tales. FYI A novel of book one, both electronically and in print, will be available later this year. Book two will hopefully be out in the spring.

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