(by SkyStreak, player of The Aspirant; posted with permission)

It was supposed to have been simple. A mission that was less than 300 yards from his apartment. They could go over, defeat the bad guys, and get back, and no one would be the wiser. Now, he had to answer to Mid-Knight.

And then there was also…

Whipped cream? He thought as he headed to the dining room following Amelia. Whipped cream!?! Where the heck did that come from?

Sure, he had been enjoying the time that he and Amelia had been spending together, but it was totally platonic. Perfectly innocent. He had a girlfriend. A drop dead gorgeous girlfriend. A drop dead gorgeous girlfriend with whom he had innumerable things in common with. Who was madly in love with him. Who he was in love with.

Sure, it’s not like they could actually go out on dates. But that wasn’t a big deal at all really…

But, he had to admit it was nice being able to go out and do some almost normal things with a person his age…

And that the person he was doing those things with was very pretty…

…and smart….

…and did that thing with her fingers on the back of his neck while they were dancing at the museum that he was 99.9% sure she had no idea she was doing even though it made it really hard to focus on much of anything while she was doing it…

…and then there was the whole “Taking things to the next level” thing with Bex that was stressing the two of them out…

…That, based on the box of condoms Magpie Nine had given to him at Wrong Place the other night, she was, obviously, talking about to other members of the Young Paragons about….

But still….

Whipped cream!?!

He sighed, shaking his head, as he took his seat at the table for dessert, strategically avoiding the accusing glare of his father and mentor.

Totally platonic. he thought. Perfectly innocent.

Moving on. He thought, resolute.

He was unfocused on the conversations around him as he helped himself to a slice of the flourless chocolate cake that was one of the few violations of his rigid diet he allowed himself.

Suddenly, he realized Amelia was trying to get his attention from the seat directly across the table.

“Hmm?” he asked trying to remove himself from his thoughts which he had yet to successfully ‘move on’ from.

“You want some of this?” she asked.

He stared at her, dumbfounded, trying to figure out what she was asking him. He tilted his head, like a confused puppy, as if asking a question.

“This.” She said, pointing.

He looked around, alarmed.

Was she pointing at herself!?!

In front of all these people!?!

She can’tbe… He told himself.

“Some of what?” he asked, hesitant.

She looked at him oddly, and it was then that he realized she was pointing at the bowl sitting right in front of her.

“The whipped cream.” She replied.

Did she just say “Whipped cream”!?! His mind raced in a panic.

“For what!?!” He said, his voice cracking loudly. Loud enough that most of the people at the table turned to look at him.

“For your dessert?” She asked, clearly confused.

He looked at the bowl, at her, then at the cake, and realized what she was talking about.

He exhaled in relief and nodded rapidly in the affirmative as he quickly reached for the bowl, knocking over a glass of dessert wine, and in failed effort to keep it from spilling, proceeded to knock over not only, that glass, but also a cup of coffee and a crystal dessert dish, spilling the contents of all three.

As he attempted to clean up the mess and avoid the looks of the people at the table, Amelia in particular, his mother gracefully stepped in.

“You’ll have to excuse him, he’s not usually this clumsy.” She said.

“No.” His father continued, analyzing Arthur with his gaze. “He’s never clumsy.”

**

(by Christine)

She leaped straight up and came down with all her white-purple Kheldian force channeled into both fists, the feeling one of terrific and scary abandon, and BOOM the Hercules-Class Titan tiddlywinked off its big metal feet to land with a resounding crash on the pavement.

An electric-blue Sapper bolt missed her by inches and she went for him next, since the Gunslinger had done that sneaky teleport-away thing they did. Tactical Operatives fired at her, ping-ping-ping into her shimmering lavender energy shield.

“Get Star Amethyst!” Another wave, gosh, they were mad.

Flare, stomp, eyebeam, dodge, punchy-punchy, stomp, flare, eyebeam, ow, Gunslinger was back, brr ice ray, lobster, STOMP-wham, Gunslinger gone again darn it, revert, flare, seeker-bursts, eyebeam.

Then a moment’s reprieve, panting for breath. Quick count. Still no Gunslinger, where did he go, she couldn’t just leave with one of them unaccounted for –

Thump.

Ammy whirled and there the Gunslinger was, crumpled and out cold.

Huh. That was weird.

She looked around. Saw no one. Had that oh-so-cliché feeling of being watched, though. Crey sharpshooter? Glowing like she was, she knew she presented a pretty good target.

Looked up.

There above her, a shape on the rooftop, silhouetted against the rising moon. Dark and dramatic. Caped and cowled. A grim crusader, a silent avenger of the night.

“Um … hi?” Ammy said.

No answer, only intense scrutiny from unseen eyes.

A siren wailed down the street. She glanced that way, only for a split second, but when she looked up again, he was gone.

***