Page 153 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

“I think that’s enough for today,” she said. “Action Dude will be back tomorrow, and he’ll be able to give the final signoff to these marketing designs. American Dream and Dotty Gale have already approved them, for all that Dreamy apparently has another twenty questions.”

“I like asking questions,” said American Dream, with a casual shrug.

“Well, for right now, half the team is due on patrol in a little under an hour, so can we call your questions answered and call this meeting done?”

The American Dream smiled wickedly. “You just want to see your girlfriend.”

“This is correct,” said Polychrome, unruffled. “I promised Victory Anna we’d have a picnic today, and I like to keep my word. All in favor of calling this meeting adjourned?”

Not a single hand was raised against her, and she went rocketing out of the window before the PA who’d been taking the meeting minutes could turn off her recorder.

* * *

During the final fight against the original board of The Super Patriots, Inc., when Velveteen led her makeshift army against the heroes still loyal to the corporation—which had included, at the time, a brainwashed Polychrome—many heroes had died. Some of them even stayed dead in the aftermath, which was more difficult for the superpowered to accomplish. And several of the deaths had been due to the actions of a hydrokinetic who fought under the name Lake Pontchartrain. She had been utterly unstoppable during the fight, grabbing heroes out of the sky with whips of water and submerging them in the depths that her body had become.

No one really understood the scope of her power before that fight. Many people dismissed her as a simple water-manipulator, and she hadn’t been swift to correct them, allowing them to believe she was restricted to the amount of water immediately around her, rather than generating it out of the air, or out of her own body. The fact that she’d been seen turning transparent and filled with ripples had been waved away as a simple special effect, the sort of thing a remarkable number of heroes could do without it saying anything about her actual power level.

So it was fair to say that people had been surprised when she had transformed herself into a miniature replica of the lake she took her name from, complete with unspeakable depths and roving catfish large enough to swallow human corpses whole. There were gators in there, too, an entire ecosystem contained in the watery body of what had previously been a B-tier superheroine from Louisiana. And while the fish were doing fine, Ellie had yet to show any signs of returning to a human form. Her former sidekick turned supervillain, the Claw, spent a few months every year wandering around in her waters, trying to convince her to talk to him, but he’d had no more success than the various telepaths, all of whom had reported that her mind was as clear and diffuse as her waters. She was an environmental hazard these days.

An environmental hazard, and a popular place to have a picnic. Someone—Polychrome was still unsure exactly who—had erected a wooden picnic table on her banks, complete with cliché little benches, and it was in use on most sunny days, providing people with a space outside corporate surveillance to share a sandwich, catch a breath, and gossip.

When she came gliding across the water, leaving a glittering rainbow trail in her wake, it was to find Victory Anna already unpacking a wicker picnic basket onto the red and white checked blanket she had spread across the table. Her offerings were a bit old-fashioned, and could have been taken directly out of a Victorian cookbook, from the cucumber and prawn sandwiches to the sponge cake layered with strawberries and cream. She glanced up at the sound of Polychrome touching down, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth upward in an expression that Polychrome could barely stop herself from kissing.

“There you are,” said Victory Anna, tone smug. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my egg salad and watercress for long.”

“Well, of course not,” said Polychrome. “I’m only human.” Part of her was humoring her girlfriend, whose temper was notoriously quick. Another, larger part, was entirely sincere. In their years together, she had learned to love Victory Anna’s anachronisms almost as much as she loved Victory Anna herself, taking joy in things like lakeside picnics using recipes that fell out of fashion a hundred years—or more—ago. Part of loving a time-displaced gadgeteer was loving her oddities, and Polychrome was determined to do that as well as she possibly could.

“Sit, then,” said Victory Anna, producing a bottle of lemonade from her basket. “Are we nearly done with this sabbatical, Pol? I’m tired of this dull, antiseptic place. I miss Portland. I miss the rabbit, loath as I am to admit it where someone might hear me. I want to go home.”

“I didn’t know Portland was ‘home,’” said Polychrome delicately.

Victory Anna’s hands slowed for a moment as she caught her breath. Then, with studied casualness, she finished uncapping the lemonade and tipped a serving into each of their waiting glasses. “Neither did I,” she said. She glanced at Polychrome. “Had you asked directly, I would have told you only London was home; only London knew the shape of my heart. But it seems my heart’s harbor has shifted with the tides, and now it seeks to settle wherever it believes you to belong. This isn’t your sky, my rainbow. It doesn’t rain enough here. Your light needs refraction to show to its best lineament.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” said Polychrome.

“You knew I loved you brighter and better than I love anything else in your baffling reality. You knew I came here on your behalf, to this temple of the mediocre, and stayed for the sake of both our hearts. But I’d like to go, when you feel you’re ready.”

“I…” Polychrome looked over her shoulder at the main building, whose windows sparkled in the sunlight. Even at this distance she could see fliers, zipping through the air around the structure, darting forward to vanish through an opening, soaring high and then falling back down for the sheer joy of gravity. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been so joyful.

Returning her attention to Victory Anna, she nodded. “They always knew I was only coming until I thought they were set up to take care of the kids. They’re set up. The framework is here, and all they have to do now is sustain it. I think we can go home if you’re ready.”

Victory Anna squealed, knocking over both their glasses as she flung herself across the table into Polychrome’s arms. Her lips tasted of sugared lemon and WD40, which had somehow become a treasured combination. They were just getting down to the business of making out when someone cleared their throat from the lakeside.

Polychrome pulled away, turning to stare at the woman who was standing in the lake. No, not in the lake: on the lake, her feet resting on the surface of the water like it was solid ground. She was dark-skinned and full-figured, with soft sloe eyes that it would be easy to drown in. She wasn’t naked, but was dressed in a winding sheet of lake water filled with tiny darting catfish that constantly rearranged themselves, yet continually seemed to be placed so as to provide a measure of modesty.

“Ellie?” asked Polychrome. “Are you…are you really back?”

“No one gives status reports to the lake around here,” said Ellie—also known as the hero Lake Pontchartrain. “Back home, the mother lake, people tell her all sort of things. Go down to the bank and say they’ve found a lover, or they’re expecting, or they have to move away. Guess I was expecting someone to tell me when it was safe to come out of the water.”

“Safe how?” asked Victory Anna.

“Can’t go home until I know I won’t be followed, and that no one’s coming for the babies anymore,” said Ellie. “Can’t do that. We let it go on for too long, and I joined this fight on the rabbit’s side because I needed to know the children would be left alone. Now, when you say they’re set up to take care of the kids, you mean⁠—”

“I mean we have a system in place to allow superpowered children to remain with their parents while receiving the necessary training to control their abilities—without corporate brainwashing.”

Ellie smiled, even as the lake beneath her feet receded, pulling into her body and disappearing. “Then I guess we’re all going home,” she said, and Polychrome smiled, and the world was changing.

* * *