2.03 – Heavenly Body

The two shuffled themselves back to the mall with the heavy deck, their arms straining under the weight as they trudged forward. The mall, though weathered by time, still held a charm that made it beloved by locals. Its grand fountains had been converted into planters filled with vibrant greenery, a low-maintenance attempt at preserving some of its old elegance. Despite its pricey shops and faded grandeur, it remained a hub of activity, a lingering echo of a golden age long past.

Leona let out a heavy sigh of relief as they entered the air-conditioned mall, her muscles aching from carrying their cumbersome load. She practically dropped the deck onto the first available table, leaning over it as a little sweat trickled down her temple. “Finally,” she huffed, wiping her brow.

Quinn leaned against the table, her breath coming out in short bursts. “I’m sorry, Leona. I went a bit too far, I guess.” She shook her head, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “I mean, that driver was such a dickhead… I couldn’t let him win… but we had no choice in the end.” She laughed and ran her fingers through her mop of sweaty pink hair, messier and more chaotic than ever, her gaze drifting across the mall with a nostalgic glint.

“Remember this place before I got into raving? I used to hang out here all the time,” she continued, the hint of a wistful smile crossing her face. “I’m sure glad I got to you before you turned into a mall rat.”

Leona raised an eyebrow, her expression curious. “A mall rat, huh? Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

Quinn grinned mischievously. “Oh, you bet. I practically lived here back then. Spent my days loitering, hanging around the food court, trying to look cool. It wasn’t until I followed some older kids to my first rave that everything changed. The music, the energy… it moved my soul. That’s when I realized what I wanted to do with my life.” She glanced at Leona and added, “But yeah, I know this place so well, it’s almost criminal. Like, literally—good thing I don’t have a larcenous mind. I could show you where all the cameras are and all the angles they don’t see.”

“Before you ask,” Quinn added with a waggle of her eyebrows, “yes, I’ve gotten a few five-fingered discounts here. Not that often, though. Just enough to keep life interesting.”

Leona rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “You shouldn’t be so naughty, big sis. I don’t want to see you ending up as the next big supervillain.”

Quinn let out a hearty laugh, her grin widening. “Yeah, that’d be one hell of a family dynamic. A beatnik, a supervillainess, and a superhero nerd. Perfectly dysfunctional, right?” She tilted her head thoughtfully, then brightened. “Hey, tell you what—how about I bribe you with an ice cream cone? Consider it my apology for dragging you into that bus fiasco.”

Without waiting for a response, Quinn darted off, leaving Leona standing there, mouth half-open. Leona sighed, shaking her head with an amused smile - what had happened to not abandoning her baby for anything? She settled into her seat and stretched her arms over her head, letting the sunlight streaming through the skylight bathe her. The warmth seeped into her, filling her with an odd sense of energy that made her pause. She ran her fingers through her hair absentmindedly, noting how dry it felt despite the heat. Quinn was positively damp with sweat after their exertions. Was something going on with her?

Quinn returned moments later, tapping Leona’s shoulder to get her attention. “Gotcha a triple Neapolitan cone,” she said, holding it out. Leona gratefully took it, her eyes lighting up as she licked the cool, creamy treat.

“You okay?” Quinn asked, her voice tinged with concern. “You looked a little off there. Mad at me or something?”

Leona shook her head, her smile returning as the ice cream worked its magic. “Nah, it’s just classic Quinn at it again. I’m used to it.” She giggled, feeling her earlier frustration dissipate.

“Didn’t know you were so reliable,” Quinn teased, then suddenly brightened. “Oh! Look! A cute girl!” She pointed toward a young woman striding confidently through the mall just outside the food court.

Leona followed her gaze, her cheeks flushing as she took in the sight. The girl wore a sleek cheongsam dress that hugged her figure perfectly, the fabric rippling with her every step. Leona’s eyes lingered for a moment longer than she intended, her mind wandering to how she’d look in something so bold.

“Dat butt!” Quinn quipped, winking at Leona. Leona’s face turned red, and she quickly looked away, though she couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at her lips.

As they both fell into a comfortable silence, the sun filtering through the skylight wrapped around Leona in a gentle warmth. It felt like something inside her was stirring, bubbling just beneath the surface. She clasped a hand to her chest, her breathing shallow as the sensation grew stronger. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on it, her ice cream temporarily forgotten. It was like reaching out for something just beyond her grasp, something ready to—

Her phone buzzed, shattering the moment. She blinked, fumbling to pull it from her pocket. The screen lit up with Goonie’s name.

“I’m here,” Goonie said when Leona answered. “You two at the food court? Come on out when you’re ready, but remember, I gotta get back tout suite.”

Leona nodded, though Goonie couldn’t see her, and hung up. She turned to Quinn. “Mom’s here.”

The two younger family members lugged the deck to the office Quinn had proudly converted into her personal live-in studio. The space was a chaotic testament to her personality—walls plastered with posters of bands and DJ gigs, cords and equipment sprawled like tangled vines across the room. Amid the gear stood a hideaway bed, an unexpected nod to practicality that Goonie had insisted upon when Quinn had initially claimed a couch would suffice.

Goonie hovered at the doorway, briefly offering to help haul the heavy deck, but when she saw the siblings managing fine, she backed off with a satisfied nod. Once the deck was settled into its new home, she sighed, brushing her hands together, and smiled warmly at them both. Her gaze lingered on Leona.

“I’ve gotta get back to the café now,” Goonie said, her voice firm but kind. “Please keep your sister out of trouble.”

Leona laughed softly, brushing her hands on her shorts. “Yeah, I’ll try.” She gave a sidelong glance at Quinn, already absorbed in inspecting the deck’s knobs and switches, her focus intense. Trouble seemed unlikely—at least, the immediate kind.

Not long after Goonie had left Leona decided to slip away, the lure of the sun-soaked deck outside too enticing to resist. She found a chair in the golden light and sank into it, letting her eyes drift closed. A dreamy smile played on her lips as she basked in the warmth. Her mind wandered back to the dream she’d had the previous night—a strange, vivid encounter she’d dismissed as fantasy. Yet now, as the warmth seemed to build within her, she wondered.

Her fingers stretched outward, almost involuntarily, reaching for that elusive sensation she’d felt in the dream. The warmth surged, growing until it became impossible to contain. A blinding flash of light burst from her, and suddenly, her clothes constricted uncomfortably around her body, the noise of fabric tearing filling her ears.

Leona yelped, standing abruptly and knocking over the chair in the process. Her chest heaved, straining against her shirt, which looked like it might rip in half at any second. She glanced down at herself, wide-eyed, and gasped.

“Oh wow… it wasn’t a dream!” she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and panic. She turned in a quick circle, her eyes darting around the empty backyard, relief flooding her when she saw no one nearby.

Her wings—wings!—flexed instinctively, the movement shredding her poor shirt into tatters. She yelped again, her cheeks burning as she glanced down at her badly fitting bra, barely containing her overflowing breasts. At least it offered a semblance of modesty, though she felt exposed nonetheless. The remains of her shirt clung stubbornly to her arms like ribbons, but Leona couldn’t help but grin.

Despite the awkwardness, excitement bubbled up inside her. She could be a superhero—a real one! The angel from her dream had been right!

Accept me. I will grant you the power of an Empyrean. It will awaken what already exists within you and give you what you want and need. Your heart, forged in pain and loss, is also the heart of a hero. It will steel you against her temptations, against everything she has tried to make you become. The heroic feats you will achieve will redeem the evil I have been a part of, and in doing so, your world will gain a true champion of justice—an Empyrean who is unyielding, unbroken, and free.

… You will fully gain our essence. You will have our power. But it will be your power. You shall be whomever you wish to be.

Leona darted toward the house, her wings brushing the door frame as she slipped inside. She froze for a moment, listening intently for any signs of Quinn having left her room. Hearing only muffled beats and the faint hum of Quinn’s music coming from her room, Leona tiptoed upstairs and closed her bedroom door firmly behind her.

The first thing she did was tear off the remnants of her too-tight clothes, although with some effort, she was able to tug off her jeans without adding new holes, tossing them into a corner. She stood before her mirror, examining her reflection in awe. She ran her hands over her smooth, clear skin, slightly tanned, faintly reminiscent of Black Angel’s good side’s glorious golden tan, marveling at the curves that hadn’t been there before. She looked older now—eighteen, maybe even a little older—and her silver hair shimmered like moonlight.

Tentatively, she touched herself, her cheeks reddening as she confirmed for the second time since last night that her body was fully, unquestionably feminine. A squeal of joy escaped her, and she spun around in giddy circles, her wings catching on a shelf and knocking its contents to the floor with a crash. Apparently shelves and their contents were her natural enemies.

“Oops!” she hissed, freezing in place and glancing toward the door. When no one came, she sighed in relief.

She glared at her wings in frustration, and to her surprise, they shriveled, shrinking into tiny cherubic appendages as though reacting to her thoughts and emotions. “Oh!” Leona gasped. “That’s… way better!” She giggled, twirling to admire the smaller, more manageable wings in the mirror. Even in their miniature form, they glowed faintly, casting a soft light over her reflection.

The sunlight streaming through her window called to her again, and Leona stepped closer, letting its warmth wash over her. She felt the energy within her surge, begging for release. She raised her hand and pointed at a random target on impulse—a glass globe containing the ashes left behind by the angel’s down from the previous night.

“Pew pew pew!” she said jokingly. A beam of light erupted from her palm, striking the globe and shattering it instantly. The force gouged a trench into the wooden shelf beneath it, and several comics fell victim to the blast, reduced to shreds.

Leona clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. “No! Not my comics!” She rushed to the wreckage, tears stinging her eyes as she cradled the remnants of several of her most favorite issues.

Her sadness was short-lived, quickly replaced by a thrill of realization. I can fly! Or I should be able to fly! Black Angel could! There’s no reason to think that these wings are just decorations. The thought sent a jolt of excitement through her, and she turned to her wings, which fluttered eagerly in response and grew to full size once more.

But then another thought struck her, one that deflated her excitement like a pin to a balloon: I need clothes and nothing will fit, especially with these wings poking out from my shoulder blades.

Leona groaned, running her fingers through her lustrous silver hair. She couldn’t very well go streaking across the city, even if no one would recognize her like this, even if it would make her look more angelic. She’d also become an object of criticism. It wouldn’t do to start her superhero career with a scandal hanging over her head. They’d call her the fluffy-winged streaking angel. Not much better than Black Angel. She balled her fists, screaming internally. What was she going to do? Damn it! I need some kind of clothes!

Energy abruptly swirled around Leona’s body as she pondered her need for clothes, condensing and weaving into a perfect recreation of Mistral’s iconic costume. She was thinking about her favorite superheroine, idly trying to come up with a concept for a heroic costume. Surprised at the feel of fabric clinging to her body, feeling real, she gasped in delight, twirling in front of the mirror. It was a faithful tribute to her hero, feathers shimmering with an ethereal glow and the sleek bodice fitting her newfound form like a dream. This costume could give her Mistral rival at Justicon a run for her money.

But as much as she adored Mistral’s costume, the thought of masquerading as her unsettled her. She didn’t want to dishonor her idol or risk tarnishing her name, especially not on her very first day of heroics. She knew that she might not do as well as she hoped. Resolving to create something unique, Leona closed her eyes and concentrated.

Piece by piece, her imagination crafted a new outfit inspired by countless catalogs, superhero costumes, and even anime she’d devoured over the years. She thought about angels, what they were supposed to look like in classic Christian stories and portraits. With a concept in mind, her body glowed again, her temporary homage transforming into a creation all her own.

When the light faded, Leona gasped in wonder. She now wore a radiant white toga gown reminiscent of a cheongsam but lighter and strappier over one shoulder, adorned with gold and blue detailing. It was pristinely white and silky to the touch, caressing her skin. Blue crystals adorned the golden bands and straps around her thighs, ankles, neck, feet and arms. A golden necklace with a blue crystal set in it complemented her elegant look, and her hair hung free, reaching her pert backside, crowned with a delicate greek-like tiara with gold leaf branching up delicately upward on either side, set with blue crystals. Blue-and-gold cuffs graced her wrists, and sandals adorned her feet, their simplicity contrasting the soft brilliance of her costume’s toga-like dress. The dress hung down behind her, a bit like a butt cape. Although she felt a little under-dressed, she liked her appearance so much, she decided that it needed no revising.

The fabric truly felt otherworldly—weightless and breathable, as though it were made of sunlight itself. Yet it was tangible, holding its form perfectly. As far as Leona could tell, it didn’t require any concentration to maintain. It was as though she was defining the basic particulars of her form for storage. She touched it repeatedly to confirm it was real, marveling at its peculiar properties.

For one last finishing touch she grabbed her phone - no hero should be without one - and conjured a clever hidden pocket in her dress to tuck it safely away, behind the golden belt resting on her hips over her dress. Now fully decked out, Leona couldn’t wait any longer. She flung open her window, launching herself through, unworried as her wings unfurled in excitement, and she launched herself into the sky.

“Woooooohooooo!” she whooped, spinning as she ascended. The city of San Isidro stretched out beneath her, a breathtaking mosaic of Victorian-style towers and bustling streets. 

As she soared higher, the sun kissed her skin, energizing her further. “I’m flying!” she squealed, her voice brimming with joy. She experimented with loops and dives, clumsily at first but quickly finding her rhythm. Pure instinct seemed to guide her, turning her initial awkwardness into graceful movements.

Leona danced through the thermals, letting the wind play over her body, before swooping down toward the bay. She skimmed the water’s surface, laughing as her fingers brushed the waves. “This is AMAZING!” she cried, her voice echoing across the ocean.

But her euphoria got the better of her. Distracted by her freedom, she misjudged her flight path and collided with the bow of a ship. She came to a screeching halt just in time to avoid serious damage, but her impact left a dent—the imprint of her face—imprinted on the side of the hull.

Crewmembers rushed to the deck, staring at her in stunned silence. Leona’s cheeks burned as she scrambled to apologize. “Uh… sorry!” she stammered, giving them an awkward wave before kicking off the ship and soaring back into the sky.

Embarrassed but undeterred, she decided to make up for her blunder by patrolling the city. Darting between buildings, she honed her reflexes, zipping through narrow spaces and weaving between chimneys and buildings built so close that she barely had room to squeak between them.

Her vigilance paid off. Hovering above a tall skyscraper well known to most San Isidrans, the Meyers Biochem Building, she spotted a blimp moored to the rooftop, surrounded by masked men wielding guns. Her heart pounded with anticipation as she studied them.

“This is it,” she whispered, a grin spreading across her face.

She landed on a nearby building, observing the situation. The men were clearly up to no good, but they hadn’t noticed her yet. Her wings fluttered with excitement as she decided to make an entrance—a bright one.

Gathering her energy, she began to glow, light pouring from her body like liquid fire. It was reckless—she barely understood her powers—but she didn’t care. She knew in her soul that she needed to step forward and be measured.

Leona crouched, her wings extending dramatically. “Time to shine,” she murmured, her voice filled with determination. Then, with a burst of light, she launched herself toward the rooftop, ready to face her first real challenge.