[Just the start of one, posting what I have before I dash to work.]
"Lady, gimme your purse!" the Hellion shouted at his victim. His two companions laughed behind him.
"Don't hurt me!" she wailed. She really should have known better than to step into the alley, but her chewing gum had lost its flavor. Since her attackers had moved all the garbage cans, her only choice had been to step into the alley to deposit the sticky mass in a proper receptacle.
The Hellion frowned as he pulled on the purse. Why did it always take forever to snag purses in Atlas Park? Was there some sort of citizen training course in an obscure martial art to retain purses and wallets until a cape showed up?
A cloud passed over head, dimming the sunlight in the alley. The Hellion would normally have ignored it as normal, but the shadow grew deeper. Almost alive, tendrils of darkness caught at his feet.
"It's gotta be a mask!" he shouted, letting go of the purse. The victim fell on her butt and quickly scrambled away. His companions pulled out their weapons and drew a bead on the form emerging from the shadows.
The hero was short, slender, and feminine. She raised a bow and launched six arrows in one shot before he could register her costume. He was flabbergasted as he and his companions were pinned to the wall by their clothes. The harmless looking schoolgirl he could now identify as QB Kitsune strode up and began to read from a card in her hand.
"B-by the powers vested in h-heroes by the Citizen Crimefighter act of 1938, you are all under arrest," she stated. "You have the right to remain silent . . ."
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll
"Lady, gimme your purse!" the Hellion shouted at his victim. His two companions laughed behind him.
"Don't hurt me!" she wailed. She really should have known better than to step into the alley, but her chewing gum had lost its flavor. Since her attackers had moved all the garbage cans, her only choice had been to step into the alley to deposit the sticky mass in a proper receptacle.
The Hellion frowned as he pulled on the purse. Why did it always take forever to snag purses in Atlas Park? Was there some sort of citizen training course in an obscure martial art to retain purses and wallets until a cape showed up?
A cloud passed over head, dimming the sunlight in the alley. The Hellion would normally have ignored it as normal, but the shadow grew deeper. Almost alive, tendrils of darkness caught at his feet.
"It's gotta be a mask!" he shouted, letting go of the purse. The victim fell on her butt and quickly scrambled away. His companions pulled out their weapons and drew a bead on the form emerging from the shadows.
The hero was short, slender, and feminine. She raised a bow and launched six arrows in one shot before he could register her costume. He was flabbergasted as he and his companions were pinned to the wall by their clothes. The harmless looking schoolgirl he could now identify as QB Kitsune strode up and began to read from a card in her hand.
"B-by the powers vested in h-heroes by the Citizen Crimefighter act of 1938, you are all under arrest," she stated. "You have the right to remain silent . . ."
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll