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Still way behind even for a half word-count, but things are beginning to cohere. I told missmtoyou at the wedding that the following character is loosely based on her (ie she doesn't really have dreadlocks):
Stocky and dreadlocked, and poured into a turquoise kevlar catsuit, she swept into F5's headquarters with something of the air of a river rounding a bend. At the sight of Roadie, she flung wide her arms, and the big man charged across the room and lifted her off her feet.
"Now, love, you know you're the only one I won't kill for doing that," she said when he had set her on her feet again, "and even you only get to on special occasions. Don't worry, Helen," she added, kissing Dr. Park on the cheek, "he adores you." Stephen must have thought something, for she put one hand on her hip and glared at him with mock sternness: "Cheeky." Amanda began to feel she was crashing a party.
"What brings you?" asked Roadie.
"He's been keeping a low profile, but El Hazard's in town. So now I am too."
"Alone?" Sam asked sharply.
"So far as I've noticed." The newcomer turned and looked up at Amanda:
"And still he fails to introduce us," she said. "You must be the Caryatid?"
"Yes. Sorry."
"For what? It's a cool name. I'm La Brea. Power over petroleum, get it?" She rolled her eyes. "Personally, I think it sounds too ghetto, but for some reason no one liked my suggestion of 'Tar Baby.'" She winked at Amanda, reached up and touched her on the nose.
"What Angela is not making clear," Sam broke in, "is that she has power over everything that's petroleum-based, as well, which makes her one of the most useful people in this game."
"More than me?" The Witness had just walked in, her hair tied back as tightly as its comparatively short length would allow and her silver gym bag slung over her shoulder.
"Hardly. You're the Witness, right?" La Brea glided toward her, hand outstretched. Wendy's eyes lit upon her, taking everything in and running it through her memory:
"Angela Bailey AKA La Brea, industrial chemist and costumed crime-fighter since December 1992. AOP: lab accident six months earlier; telekinetic control over all petroleum-based materials. Hometown: Sapphire. Enemies: Powdergirl; El Hazard; Tintoy. Allies: Blue Ribbon." She paused a moment. "La Singe?"
"We're on speaking terms."
Stocky and dreadlocked, and poured into a turquoise kevlar catsuit, she swept into F5's headquarters with something of the air of a river rounding a bend. At the sight of Roadie, she flung wide her arms, and the big man charged across the room and lifted her off her feet.
"Now, love, you know you're the only one I won't kill for doing that," she said when he had set her on her feet again, "and even you only get to on special occasions. Don't worry, Helen," she added, kissing Dr. Park on the cheek, "he adores you." Stephen must have thought something, for she put one hand on her hip and glared at him with mock sternness: "Cheeky." Amanda began to feel she was crashing a party.
"What brings you?" asked Roadie.
"He's been keeping a low profile, but El Hazard's in town. So now I am too."
"Alone?" Sam asked sharply.
"So far as I've noticed." The newcomer turned and looked up at Amanda:
"And still he fails to introduce us," she said. "You must be the Caryatid?"
"Yes. Sorry."
"For what? It's a cool name. I'm La Brea. Power over petroleum, get it?" She rolled her eyes. "Personally, I think it sounds too ghetto, but for some reason no one liked my suggestion of 'Tar Baby.'" She winked at Amanda, reached up and touched her on the nose.
"What Angela is not making clear," Sam broke in, "is that she has power over everything that's petroleum-based, as well, which makes her one of the most useful people in this game."
"More than me?" The Witness had just walked in, her hair tied back as tightly as its comparatively short length would allow and her silver gym bag slung over her shoulder.
"Hardly. You're the Witness, right?" La Brea glided toward her, hand outstretched. Wendy's eyes lit upon her, taking everything in and running it through her memory:
"Angela Bailey AKA La Brea, industrial chemist and costumed crime-fighter since December 1992. AOP: lab accident six months earlier; telekinetic control over all petroleum-based materials. Hometown: Sapphire. Enemies: Powdergirl; El Hazard; Tintoy. Allies: Blue Ribbon." She paused a moment. "La Singe?"
"We're on speaking terms."
