Synaptic Overload

by Brandy Dewinter and Tigger

( © 1999, All rights reserved )

 

Chapter 6 - Queens In Conflict

"This is Elizabeth Hawley at the 6-Shooter News desk, with an update on the as-yet unnamed new superhero. There are now at least 5 confirmed sightings of the flying woman. We are pleased to report that she seems committed to aiding society, rather than preying on it. In each reported appearance she has either rescued someone, as in the first time she was seen, or aided the police in capturing criminals. At this time, the extent of her powers is not fully understood, but she seems to have some sort of laser beam, a disintegrating ball, and of course her ability to fly."

The anchorwoman concluded her report from the TV in the faculty lounge with a repeat of the standing offer for information on the true identify of the costumed superhero. An action image of the flying woman was shown on the screen near the reporter's head, accompanied by a toll-free number for those who might have information about her identity.

Terhune watched the report with rapt attention. As soon as the image faded from the screen when the station went to a commercial, Terhune stood up and began to pace.

"That has got to be the most gorgeous woman there has ever been," he gushed.

Thorson didn't know whether to be pleased or insulted. He settled for an observation of his own. "You don't even know what she looks like, really. She's always wearing a mask."

"I can see enough. She always holds herself so erect and dignified, yet with those curves she's clearly all woman! She has an incredible figure; her costume makes that clear. But it's what is inside the costume that is the perfect example of a sensual woman. That is a lady who deserves respect, yet she's so caring and, well, feminine, too."

"Oh, she probably wears something to make her skinny," Thorson laughed, knowing the truth of his joke even as he made it. He carefully avoided even thinking about the other part of Terhune's praise.

"She's not skinny, just trim," Terhune defended his unknown lady.

"And I don't think anyone could get that shapely just from clothes."

"I thought you were all hot and bothered about that other woman that showed up a while back, the bank robber with the dark hair," said Thorson, trying to change the subject, or at least the object of the conversation.

"Oh, her. Well, she's a criminal. Besides, I prefer blondes. And this new girl has the most beautiful blonde hair I've ever seen."

"It's certainly long," Thorson agreed with a sigh that Terhune misunderstood completely. He thought it was shared desire on Thorson's part, when in fact it was remembered bother that caused Thorson to sigh.

"I'd give anything to meet her in person," Terhune promised.

"You never know, maybe you already have," Thorson said, grinning with a secret he couldn't share.

"What do you mean?" asked Terhune.

"Well, nobody knows who she is. So she may be just about anybody.

Maybe she's someone you already know," Thorson explained.

Terhune seemed captivated by the idea. "Do you really think so?"

"I suppose it's possible," Thorson said.

"But I don't know anyone with hair that gorgeous, not to mention a body like that," Terhune complained.

"I imagine that some of that might be, um, costuming," Thorson said.

"Oh, quit putting her down. She's gorgeous, through and through.

Any fool could see that."

*Any fool indeed,* Thorson thought, but he said nothing further.

 

"Your Majesty, we are ready to begin," reported General Oahu.

"Very well," the slender brunette said. She dropped a long coat that had covered her distinctive costume and walked toward the entrance to the hotel. Her entourage fell in behind her, yet they had small part to play in this particular adventure.

The door to the hotel opened automatically but most of the lobby inside was cordoned off by obvious Secret Service agents with radar eyes and electronic voices. Two started toward the masked woman as soon as the door revealed her, but with a wave of her hand they seemed to lose interest.

A woman seated behind a registration table near the entrance to the ballroom lost interest almost as quickly, though in her case the flush on her face and quickened breathing were signs of a different sort of distraction. The masked woman with the regal bearing strode into the ballroom itself as though those inside had gathered in her honor. Perhaps they had, even if unknowingly, for the subject of the gathering was, "Women of Power".

The speaker, a middle-aged blonde woman, stopped in the middle of her speech at the interruption. She looked anxiously at the agents around her, but none seemed to be paying attention. The attendees at the fund-raising banquet were predominantly women, and they were becoming aware of an arousal that was in many cases unfamiliar. The few men in the room, primarily Secret Service agents, were looking frantically, yet unproductively around, unable to determine a course of action to pursue.

"Who are you?" the blonde speaker demanded of the pretty brunette.

"We are Synapse, right Queen and Monarch of the islands of Hawaii, which you have stolen from us."

Before the blonde could respond, Synapse spoke again. "You, who think yourself Queen of this land, know this. We will not be denied our heritage. We have offered you several opportunities to meet our just demands, yet you have refused to recognize us."

Synapse took a step closer, and her smile twisted into a sneer. "You think you have power, basking in the reflection of your husband's position. Your sycophants tell you that you have power of your own, despite the pathetic way you struggle to find some position to which you can actually be elected. Now we will show you real power, that of a true Queen, against which your self-anointed pretense has no defense."

With that, the lips revealed within the dark mask Synapse wore smoothed into silken softness. Her long-nailed finger drew a lazy circle in the air, then another, then a third. From the side, it wasn't clear where her finger was pointed, but on the direct line from Synapse to the blonde woman, the targets of her gestures were obvious. The now-silent speaker gasped at each motion, a flush rising over her features. With the third gesture, the blonde's eyes drooped into a heavy-lidded smolder, windowing the heat building within her. Her breath became even more ragged and she clutched at the lectern as her knees grew suddenly weak. In another moment, her hands lost their strength and she collapsed slowly to the floor, panting and twitching.

The dark-haired, self-proclaimed Queen of Hawaii looked down on the shuddering woman and said, "See that your husband grants our just demands, or no place within your nation is safe from our power."

Dropping her voice to a whisper, Synapse said to the blonde alone, "Assist us in recovering what is ours by right, and we may allow you unlimited access to the pleasure you prefer, no longer bound by the pretense of marriage to a man."

Synapse stood and looked over the crowded ballroom. She laughed and resumed her arrogant stride toward the exit, her spike-heeled boots imparting an inescapably sensual sway to her otherwise regal motion. As she exited the room, she looked back and said, "We will grant you all another ten minutes of our power, except for your self-anointed one. She will enjoy our gift for a full half-hour. Let all of you carry forward our message. Grant our just demands, or face consequences infinitely less pleasurable than those of this encounter."

 

"This is Bill Ivins, of World News Network, reporting to you live from the Regency Hotel, site of the "Women of Power" conference which was attacked earlier today by the woman calling herself Synapse and claiming to be the Queen of Hawaii. Now, back to our anchor desk."

Janice turned down the volume on the TV and looked at Thorson. He had come for a regular voice and mannerisms lesson, though it had become as much a strategy session for Entropy's appearances as any training in femininity. Both Janice and Angie had long since imparted any skills they might have and considered "Janie" Thorson to be passable under any social situation not involving loss of clothes. Jonny Thorson was not as confident, despite several uneventful public excursions and an equal number of appearances as Entropy.

"That woman is crazier than a folded tesseract," Thorson declared.

Neither Janice nor Angie understood the reference, but that didn't matter. They understood the meaning and waited patiently for Thorson to say something further.

"I think it may be time for Entropy to take on a real challenge," he said softly.

"Against this Synapse creature?" Angie asked.

Thorson nodded.

"But you don't have any defense against her power," cautioned Janice.

"I know, but no one else seems to have a defense, either. Based on that report we just watched, there does seem to be a range limitation, though. She might be able to do something mild across a distance as large as that room, but she had to get real close to her target for the intense effect."

"That's a pretty big assumption. Maybe she just wanted to, well, get in her face or something."

"Maybe," Thorson agreed. "But I still think my weapons outrange hers, and I should have more mobility since I can fly. I think I have to do this."

Janice was still worried about their friend, and unconvinced the risk was reasonable. "You may be able to fly, but you don't even know where to fly to."

In response, Thorson pulled a newspaper clipping out of his bag. It heralded the opening of a Hawaiian artifacts exhibit at the Castle Rock Museum of American Heritage.

"Do you think our Queen of Hawaii will be able to resist that?" he asked.

"So, what's the plan?" Janice sighed.

Thorson outlined his approach as though it would be simple, "I think I'll stake out the museum. Then, when they rob the place, I'll follow them back to wherever they've been hiding, and capture Synapse."

"Just like that, huh?" Angie said with a snort of disbelief.

"Do you have a better idea?" he asked.

"Yeah, stay home. Let the FBI catch her or something," Angie answered.

"They haven't yet," Thorson pointed out. "Look, this is my big chance. Now that Synapse has elevated herself from bank robber to potential assassin, she's big news. If I can catch her, I'll have proven myself and my powers so visibly that everyone will have to accept the importance of my discoveries. This is what I've been pointing toward all along."

Janice, who had been silent for several minutes, sighed again and said, "It looks like your mind is made up. What can we do to help?"

"I don't really know. Any suggestions?" he asked.

"Johnny, you are without a doubt the best at impersonating a woman that we've ever had in our salon. You're pretty, graceful, and demurely feminine. In the last few sessions, I've been learning from you. I don't have any suggestions at all."

Thorson blushed at the compliments, which looked much less congruous on his face than on either of his alter egos, but the flush faded into a grimace.

"That's not particularly good news," he said.

"Why not?" Angie asked. "You're a natural!"

"I'm a man. It's not right that I can look so much like a woman," he said.

"Indeed?" Janice asked, an arch of elegant brow saying more than the bare word, though Thorson continued on obliviously.

"One of my co-workers was going on and on about how gorgeous Entropy is. But he was really talking about me! I don't want to be a babe! If anything, I want to be a, well, a hunk. Or at least a man. It's not right for a man to be so good at looking like a woman." He repeated, his voice trailing off into silence.

Janice opened her mouth to say something more, but before she uttered a word her shoulders slumped and she looked away. Still silent, she walked from the room.

Thorson roused from his inward focus to see her retreating back. His words replayed in his mind and he realized they applied to more than himself. "Janice, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean you."

Only her drooping shoulders heard his words as the door to the main salon closed behind her. Thorson started to go after her, but Angie caught his arm and held him back.

"Let her go, Jonathon," she ordered.

"But I hurt her, and I didn't mean to," he protested. "She's very good at what she does, and I respect that."

"Yes, you did hurt her. And no, you don't really respect her, though you recognize her competence."

"I, but, well, that's the same thing," he said.

"No, it's not. Sit down, Jonathon. I'm going to tell you some things you need to know," she ordered. Then repeated more sharply when he hesitated, "I said, 'Sit down'!"

As he complied, she continued, "I am going to try to help you understand the woman inside the man I love a little better. You still don't fully . . .ha. . .don't *begin* to appreciate the gifts you are so casually blowing off. It took James *years* to learn how to look the way Janice does. Years of trial and error, of exercise, of dieting. He was brought up eating "Mom-food", and now has to turn his back on the foods he likes best so that Janice can still fit into that size twelve. Years of being desperately *afraid* that someone would find out and laugh at him, humiliate him. Do you know how long it took me to calm James down the day I finally let him know that I already *knew* about Janice? And that I still *loved* him?

"Hell, I love him now more than ever. Can you understand how flattering it is to have a husband devote his life to understanding women? To paying attention to each little nuance of gesture and inflection, and then use the knowledge not only to emulate women, but to be sensitive to the needs of the woman he loves? I'm here to tell you that men who understand women well enough to emulate them, who embrace and cherish soft words, considerate gestures, grace and beauty are far and away the best possible lovers. And if you have some other definition of what a real man should be, well, I don't even want to hear it."

Thorson slowly nodded his head, "Yes, I suppose so. But, well, why didn't Janice just tell me that, instead of running off?"

"You idiot," Angie said, but there was no heat in her tone, only gentle sadness. "Without really trying, you make a prettier woman than Janice can ever be, because you have been given natural gifts she can never have. Oh, Jonny, don't you see? Millions of natural-born girls go to sleep at night wishing they could look like a "babe". You cheapen the dream of each of them by putting down your own success. And no genetic girl ever worked harder for that goal than Janice. Not only is she jealous, but it hurts her to see how little you think of her because of how little you think of your own achievement."

Angie concluded with a sad sigh, "And of me, if you think all this is shameful."

"Oh, God, Angie. I never meant that. You guys are the best friends I have. I would never hurt you."

"Yes, you would," she said without compromise. "You did. But I know you didn't do it from malice. After a while, Janice will, too."

"I have to go talk to her, let her know how sorry I am," he said, standing.

"No. You don't," Angie said with continued firmness. "*I* will go to her. That is my privilege, and my duty. You will go home, and think about who it harms if a man loves women enough to want to emulate them. Once you can answer that question, you might begin to add a woman's heart to the mind and body you can display so perfectly."

"So what should I do?" Thorson asked.

"Go home, like I said," Angie repeated as she escorted him to the back exit. When they reached the door, she put an arm around his waist and reached up to kiss his cheek and smile to show that things would be all right. "You be careful. You still owe us for the wig."

Thorson dredged up a not very convincing smile of his own and said, "I will be."

 

"I screwed up big time tonight, Ding," Thorson said as he fed the cat. "I hurt someone who didn't deserve it."

Dinger was busy in his food, but he looked up with an uncharacteristic willingness to be distracted. A flick of his tail precluded any need to talk with his mouth full. [Care to talk about it?]

"Ding, does it ever bother you that we don't have any friends?"

Thorson asked.

Ding's answer was a positively, well, feline licking at his chops. [Speak for yourself. There's this cute kitten down the alley that can get real friendly, if you know what I mean.]

"I don't mean sexual flings," Thorson snorted. "I mean real, help-you-when-you-need-it-and-don't-ask-the-cost friends."

Dinger looked at the few remaining morsels in his bowl for a long second, then left them as he walked over to Thorson and rubbed up against his tall roommate's ankles. [You got me.]

"Thanks, Ding. I appreciate that," Thorson said, scritching at the tomcat's ears.

Duty done, Ding went back to his food. Thorson joined him in a simple meal, but his thoughts were still churning.

"I need to really rethink my life, Dinger," Thorson announced. "The first step in that is going to be to capture this Synapse person, but after that, well, we'll have to see. My plans may need to change."

"Mmrrowwrowff," Dinger cautioned. [Just as long as you continue to feed me on time.]

"Oh, don't worry," Thorson said. Then he stopped and realized that indeed there might be something to worry about.

He went to the phone and dialed the Inner Truth salon, hoping that Angie would answer, or that if Janice answered, she wouldn't hang up immediately. It turned out that neither of those options occurred. Instead, he got the answering machine.

"Janice, before I say anything else, please believe me when I say that I'm sorry. Despite what I've done, I need to ask a favor. It may take me a couple of days to catch Synapse, and if it does, I need someone to look after my cat. Could I ask you to come down to Armbruster, by the college, tomorrow so that I can introduce you? I'm sorry to impose, but, well, there's not really anyone else I can ask."

"And isn't that a sorry state of affairs," he mused to himself.

 

The call the next morning was from Angie, and if her pixie grin didn't sound as clearly in her voice as it often had, still her tone was light-hearted. "When do you need us?"

"Well, the Hawaiian artifacts arrive in town this afternoon," he answered, "and I guess I should stake the place out starting tonight."

"Okay, we'll be there this evening," she promised.

When the doorbell rang that night, Thorson opened it expecting to see Janice and Angie. What he saw was Angie and a slender middle-aged man. He was about to ask if he could help the man, wondering why Angie was with him, when he realized what was happening. Then his jaw dropped and he couldn't say anything. It took him a moment to recover. When he did, he stepped back into the room with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Like, duh! I was about to ask who you are."

"I think I'll take that as a compliment," James said. Angie smiled her pixie grin as she followed her husband into the room.

"You don't have a problem with this, do you?" asked James.

"No, not at all," Thorson answered. "It's just not what I was expecting. I've never seen you in, well, normal clothes."

James laughed and said, "Anymore, these aren't my normal clothes. I call it being, 'en drab'. But it's a long way to ride in a corset, and one of my problems is that I need the more overt aspects of femininity to be reasonably convincing."

"Oh, no you don't," Angie disagreed. "You just think you do. You'd look cute in a some tight jeans and a fluffy sweater, with a big bow in your hair."

"Yes, dear," James disagreed by agreeing.

Just then Angie caught sight of Dinger. "Oh, what a cute kitty!"

"Mrrwrrmphrrsst." [I am not cute! And I am not a kitty!] Dinger said as he turned his back on her. His tail said a bit more, but that probably was better left untranslated.

"Oh, my," Angie said. "I'm afraid I've hurt his feelings."

"Probably," Thorson agreed, "but he bribes easy."

He handed the short-haired woman a treat from a bowl he kept out of Dinger's reach, then conducted the introductions.

"Angie, this is Dinger. Dinger, you need to be nice if you want your bribe."

"Mrraor." [Okay. I'll let her get by with it, this time.] He said as he watched Angie's hand with the treat. Only his tail seemed uninvolved in his focus on the food, though his tail was snapping quickly enough to show interest, just not focus.

"Dinger?" James asked.

"Yes," Thorson confirmed.

"As in Schroedinger?" James asked next.

"Very good. Not many people make the connection."

James laughed, "A scientist with a cat named Dinger, and they don't think of Schroedinger?"

"Most people don't think, dear, that's why so many of our clients get so much abuse," Angie said sadly.

"You got that right," James confirmed, then turned back to Thorson.

Before Thorson could launch into a long and painful series of apologies, James grinned and gave him an excuse for being a social idiot, "Okay, Mr. Scientist, we're here. What's next?"

"Um, actually, I'm not quite ready yet. If you'll just give me a minute, I need to change clothes."

While Thorson disappeared into the other room, Angie tried to build on her friendship with Dinger, stealing another bribe from the bowl to aid her seduction. James was looking through Thorson's reference books, and even more closely at the fiction he had also collected, when Thorson returned. He wore the Entropy costume, though he carried the wig and the mask.

"I'm afraid I couldn't really get started until you got here, in case someone else came before you did. So it'll take a little while," Thorson explained.

"Not as long if we help," Angie offered, grinning at the relief that showed on Thorson's face.

Dinger looked at his strangely dressed roommate with intense curiosity. But instead of backing up screeching like he had done the first time Thorson had presented himself in a superhero costume, Ding just sniffed at the foolishness of humans and walked to the patio door.

"It looks like Dinger has a date," James laughed.

"Well," Thorson said, "there is this kitten down the alley that he was telling me about."

It was strange for Thorson to have another man in the room when he completed his transformation to Entropy. Stranger still to have that man tugging on his corset laces, and brushing his long hair into place. Yet the familiarity of the actions, despite the strangeness of the setting, served to repair the breech in their friendship that Thorson's insensitivity had created. By the time Entropy was ready for her mission, they were laughing and joking again as though nothing had happened.

The mood changed, though, when it was finally time for Entropy to leave.

"I truly am sorry," she said to James.

"I know. Forget it. I already have."

"You be careful," Angie said in mock seriousness, overlying an all too true concern.

"I will," Entropy said, then slipped out into the darkness behind the apartments.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Angie asked.

"I hope so," James answered as they saw the silhouette of a caped woman rise against the moonlit night.

 

 

 

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© 1999 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.