Tanya’s story
Now:

“You’ve got to kick this guy’s ass,” she said, as if it were some kind of simple thing. I don’t know if any of you know this, but contract assassins are relentless badasses who know what they’re doing; not like me, the hostage with borrowed powers.

Shot after shot rang out, blasting KC and me into a million pieces. It should have hurt, but for some reason it didn’t. We just kept coming back time and time again like a character in a video game with infinite lives, or at least as many lives as Glimmer Girl could manage. By the sounds of things she was struggling and could barely keep us a few feet off the ground.

There was no time for shock between recoveries, not like the first few times. “Why aren’t we running?” I demanded. She was the one guiding our flight path even though we were joined and sharing powers.

“Why aren’t you shoo-“

BLAM!

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Tanya’s story
Now:

It was so unreal, like my mind had stepped out onto the street and was only watching while somebody else flailed in the grip of that monster tentacle. If it were me up there I would have been screaming for him to let me go or started crying like a kid, but instead that little voice, the one that tells you to call a cab when you’re face down drunk in the street, the one that nags about that thing you do that’s pissing off someone you care about, the one that stays completely sane when nothing else makes sense, took the reins and kept me from shaking apart. Anything after that was between Hardcastle and Glimmer Girl.

Why was this happening!? $#&% like this didn’t take place in real life, or at least so I thought. Like countless distant wars, poverty and disease heroes and villains had only ever existed on TV, then Kaira of all people opened the door and let it all come spilling out. I knew, even then in the throes of terror, that nothing was ever going to be the same because of this.

The jerk on the ground connected to the tentacle was named Aaron Hardcastle, I think. It would make perfect sense if he was. His story was that he was a contract assassin out to finish off Glimmer Girl, aka my best friend Kaira, which was why because of an earlier attempt she’d spent the better part of a half hour throwing up and trying to stay awake in the back of my banged up old beetle. Yeah, TV dramas had nothing on me.

“Don’t panic. This’ll be over soon enough,” he told me, not that it was all that comforting coming from the lips of a full-time murderer.

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Hey all,

Just a quick heads up to tell you a couple of things: First, I am not dead, lost at sea, or any other of a million things: just horribly distracted. Again, I apologize for taking too long to post anything, and will push something out once Andy and Tanya stop kicking my ass.

Secondly, we’re currently being featured by our friends at ErgoFiction, where you can also find a guest post by yours truly: Heroes vs. Gender – The Shimmer Manifesto, in which is discussed Glimmer Girl, her gender identity and place in the wider superhero mythos. I certainly hope you will find it a compelling read.

That’s all for now, Shimmerphiles. Hope to see you back here soon.

~Miranda Sparks

Okay, here’s the deal: ever have one of those experiences where everything you thought you knew about someone was turned completely upside down? That’s what’s happened to me in as many months the times my best friend came out to me: first to tell me that she wasn’t really a guy like I’d always thought, and now this!

Racing down the freeway I kept trying to steal glances of her in the mirror. She was glowing, and not in the way you might glow after having a really awesome day. No, this was more like a Christmas tree or dim mood lighting, the kind of glow that no human being without sipping a healthy dose of uranium in their chai should be able to produce.

Eyes on the road. It was hard not to look back. Her breathing was starting to get more and more shallow, even worse than it had been when I first found her curled up in the back seat. Why she picked that spot to start dying I’ll never know.

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Kraisse looked on with depraved indifference as the executioners did their work. To witness a living being suffer until death didn’t faze him: it was only a human after all, a sentient parasite of which there were billions. What did one matter against their purpose? Crell justice had to be delivered both quickly and quietly without the cosmic balance being disturbed.

The other captive prisoner disagreed entirely. Even then Ari fumbled at the wall trying to find a switch, panel or anything else he could use to break free. Such a thing was highly unlikely, however, for even an engineering savant such as himself was only as good as his tools at his disposal, namely the soft, fleshy paws imbued to him at birth. Pathetic.

Of the crell soldiers one grew frustrated with his weapon, enough so that he dared to speak out of turn. Still, he had been loyal. Kraisse could make this one allowance. “This has been going on for minutes. Why won’t this human die!?”

“Patience,” the warden declared. “This one has a high degree of regenerative ability. The usual methods will work but only if you give it time.”

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Gold. Orange. Blue. White. Black. We garbed ourselves with tights, belts, armor and masks, same as we would if we were going to war. Somewhere out there was a monster, and with it our companions. It was going to take more than a handful of campers to bring them back. No, it was going to need a superhero or two… or in our case, five.

Gabby frowned. “I promised Jorge no costumes,” she muttered, herself transformed by the footless monochrome bodysuit into her widely known alter-ego of Touch. “He’ll just have to chew me out when we drag him back.”

Wild Knight, Herculena, Noble and I gathered behind her on the shoreline, staring into the intimidating wall of darkness on the other side of the water. All manner of creatures lurked in concealment from the Society of Sin to King freakin’ Kong, and I along with the others was expected to punch them.

“Anyone else get a bad feeling about this?” I asked.

Herculena scoffed and polished her sword. “Have a care for your dignity, Glimmer Girl. Fear does not become you.”

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Okay, so, that took a little longer than expected. The plan was to push out a new story every Friday and I didn’t quite live up to it. This, folks, is why I’m not going around asking for donations.

With any luck there’ll be a steady stream of material flowing out from now on. In the meantime those updated in news and updates can follow Shimmerverse on Twitter or Facebook, and there you’ll get to hear me prattle on about this and that before spamming you with… well, whatever you usually get spammed with in these sorts of media.

Again, sorry for the wait. Here’s to making sure it doesn’t happen again in a good long while.

~Miranda

Hey guys,

The story’s going to have to take a few weeks break. I’ve emptied my backlog that I’d intended to keep me ahead, but real life has gotten in the way, as it does. This week I’ve been sorting a visa nightmare which ended in my fiance going back to the United States. Not a good place for writing, you know?

Again, the management apologizes for the inconvenience. I’ll give you candy if you promise not to hate me too much for it.

Miranda

Gabby raised an eyebrow curiously at Jorge’s arrival. “You went grocery shopping? We had beans in the jet.”

Looming over the cast iron pot the newly returned member of the Young Sentinels considered the requirements of his specialty dish, including the unopened cans he held in the paper shopping bag he’d brought with him.

“Remember that time we were fighting Gremlin and he shot us out of the sky with that… ionic sub-whatsamathingy,” he explained. “You know, when he blew a hole right in the side of the jet and we lost cabin pressure until we could land.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah,” Jorge groaned. “Nobody thought to refill our storage compartment after we cleaned it out.”

Gabby made a face like she was going to be sick. “I remember that. It was… absolutely disgusting. Ugh, it was wretched.”

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His thoughts were murky, same as the algae filled water through which he waded at nose level. How far had he come now? Who could say? Words had lost all meaning to him by that point. Day followed night followed day just as it had before and always would. Anything else was pointlessly complicated and did nothing to satiate his immediate hunger.

Though empty of anything but the tiniest of morsels the waters were of great comfort to the creature. They were warm and welcoming, not like the icy depths from where he had come, an undersea prison to which he would never return. Images of drowned caves sent a chill down his spine, away from the bank and into the wider stream flowing toward the river.

In the forest before him the darkness fell before the night with pine trees obscuring the amber tainted rays stretched over the wilderness. No matter. He did not need to see to know that there was prey waiting: first that deer grazing silently ahead, then something more substantial later.

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