A trip to the Citadel is seldom ever a good thing. In the worst of circumstances, it can be a matter of international crisis, requiring the aid of all superheroes. In the best of circumstances, it usually means you’ve stepped in a big enough pile of shit to warrant intervention from the Council.

But when you’re someone like Mara Boones, who’s stepped in more shit than she’d care to admit, even an ordinary visit can feel like a matter of international security.

Sat outside the office of Superhuman Resources, she draws her lower lip between her teeth, her shoes tapping an excited rhythm out against the floor. She makes note of Ebb and Flow, a superhero duo from Florida, and lifts a hand in greeting. The two pause in their conversation before hurrying past her, laughter spilling from their lips as they do so.

“They’re probably laughing at someone else”, Mara muses, only to then trail off at the sound of a deep growl. Her brow eyes slide to the left, where a jackal, with fiery eyes and smoke-like fur sits beside her. She offers Jefferson a sympathetic smile before lifting a brown hand to scratch the underside of his chin. “Relax, pal. I got a good feeling about today.”

And why shouldn’t she? After all, it’s not everyday that a girl decides to strike out on her own as a superhero. It’s a little nerve-wracking being without a partner for the first time in years, fair enough. But she doesn’t exactly plan on being on her own for long.

Another group of superheroes have just walked by, taking care not to get too close to her when a voice as soft as honey calls out, “Is that who I think it is?” Mara grins and rises from her seat as the door to Superhuman Resources opens. A woman strides out, flamingo pink hair bouncing as she flaps her wings and dives into Mara’s arms. Mara returns the embrace with gusto before she finds herself being guided down the hall. Several heads turn their way as they go, no doubt wondering why someone like Cupid would waste their time on a lowly necromancer like Tombstone.

But they never bothered with stuff like that. When they walk side by side, it all fades away until all that remains is Mara Boones and Valentina Hart. They’ve been best friends since the Academy, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Sorry I’m late.” She rubs the back of her neck, a sheepish smile gracing her lips as they walk down the hall. “I forget Calamity City’s an hour behind you guys.”

But Val just rolls her eyes, her steps smooth and confident before she guides her wings into a lazy float beside her. “No biggie. It’s always slow this time of year, so I don’t really have anything I have to be doing right now.” Her eyes turn serious then. “And since you’re here, let me be the first to say good riddance. I never thought you and Decay were a good match anyway.”

“Don’t dog him”, Mara says before averting her stare at the pointed look her friend gives her. “We aren’t working together anymore. Does that mean I have to think bad of him?”

Val just scoffs, then crosses her arms over her chest and mutters, “You don’t have to, but I think you’d be better off if you did”. All the same, she flies further up ahead, bringing her wings to a stop just before a bulletin board. Jefferson rushes up to her, and she coos at him before she turns her stare back upon Mara. “If you’re hoping to find a new partner, this is the place to do it. Well, this and a few other places, but this is the one least likely to get you shanked in the back of a parking lot.”

“I’m not even gonna try to unpack that.” Instead, she brings her hands to rest upon her lips, dread pooling in her stomach when several names catch her eye. Ebb, first and foremost, because she just saw him out in the hall. But there’s also Scorcher, Angel Eyes, Anima. They’re all very familiar names, and that’s not just because they’re among the most famous superheroes in the world. It’s because, over the years, she’s managed to get rejected by each and every one of them. It’d be an impressive accomplishment if it wasn’t so embarrassing.

With a shudder, Mara skips past those names. She then falters, her hopes falling in tandem with her shoulders when they all call for power sets of the “heroic” nature. Though she’d loathe to call herself a supervillain, she knows most of the world would hesitate to call necromancy a heroic power set.

So she keeps looking, her lavender brows lifting when she comes upon one name in particular. “Beau Baxter, alias: Bramble. Looking for a partner. 5+ years experience, local applicants preferred. Application expires March 1st.” Mara’s eyes go wide as she drags a finger along the flier in question, a shit-eating grin stretching from one end of her face to the other, only to then falter at the doubtful stares she garners from Val and Jefferson. “What? I happen to think I’ve hit the jackpot.”

Truth be told, she doesn’t follow many East Coast heroes, but the Bombastic Bramble’s spat with the Mayor of Miracle City is known the world over, as is the damage it ultimately did to his career. But she remembers a time when Baxter was considered the greatest superhero in the world. And if she has any hope of convincing the world that she’s more than the wicked necromancer they think she is, she’s gonna have to go with the greatest. And if his flier doesn’t mention any preferences for powersets? All the better.

“I’m not trying to let the air out of your tires, darling”, Val remarks as Mara pries her spellbook free of her grey cloak, flipping through its pages until she comes upon a blank page. With a delighted squee, she copies the contact information. She flips through the pages until she comes upon a portal spell, stopping only by the sight of a feathery hand coming to rest on top of it. Val gives her a pointed stare. “But I live full-time in Miracle City, and I know Baxter. We used to work together every now and again. These days, he’s a recluse that would rather obsess over his investigation to nowhere than work with anyone.”

That gives Mara pause before she shakes her head and tucks her spellbook back into her cloak. Her eyes glow a faint lavender as she whispers, “From here to there, I bid thee take me there: 0422 East Cottage Grove”. As a purple portal carves itself out of thin air, she shakes out her shoulders and turns back to face her companions. “Today’s the 28th, which means it’s the last day for applications. You don’t think that means something?”

“I think it means if you’d come a day later, you wouldn’t have been able to even consider doing something this ridiculous.” Val lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. And all at once, Mara’s reminded of their time at the Academy when she would come up with some hairbrained scheme or another to advance in their training. “Ebb and Flow are locals, and they’re hiring. And they don’t say they’re looking for any specific powerset.”

A breath escapes Mara. “They don’t have to.” When Val opens her mouth to argue, she reaches out to seize her hands, an exasperated smile upon her lips. “Val, I’m not exactly swimming in options here.”

“...I know”, Val says after a moment, her eyes downcast. She then casts a glance at the portal before lifting a pink brow at her. “I just don’t want you to go from one shitty situation to another.”

With a nod and a determined smile, Mara assures her, “I won’t. Trust me when I say this is gonna be the best thing for me”. Jefferson lets out a grunt and butts his head into her elbow, prompting her to roll her eyes. “The best thing for us. I’ll call you as soon as I’m settled, okay?”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her worried eyes betraying her light smile when Mara hops atop Jefferson’s back and rides him through the portal. 

Her ears pop as they traverse the eerie landscape of the Dead Realm. Headstones stretch as far as the eye can see, and Mara pries her scythe free of her spellbook, clenching it tightly as she searches for an exit portal. When at last she spots it, a swirling mass of dim lavender, a grin stretches across her face. “Come on, pup. We’ve got a super to catch.”

Jefferson lets out a shout before he launches himself through the portal, straight out of the Dead Realm and into oncoming traffic. With a frightened yelp, Mara seizes hold of his fur and guides them out of the way of a refrigerated truck, clinging tightly to the oversized canine as they leap over a minivan and safely onto a nearby sidewalk.

“Sorry!”, she calls out over the sound of honking horns. She lifts a hand to her chest before she turns around and finds a mansion overgrown with grass and bramble. She lets out a breath. “Okay, Toto. We are definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

She brings the hood of her cloak to rest against her shoulders, lavender locks curling about her chin as she hops off Jefferson’s back and walks up the crumbling path until she at long last comes upon the mailbox. She trades her scythe for her spellbook and nods to herself. 0422 East Cottage Grove. This is the place.

She’s about to lift her knuckles to the door to knock when a thorny vine suddenly darts out from the balcony up above. It grabs her by the ankle and hoists her up high into the air. Disoriented, she can only hang there for a moment as her spellbook slips from her hands and falls down to the ground, where Jefferson barks wildly after her. But the vine just keeps lifting her higher and higher, its grip tightening when it finally stops before an oblong window covered in moss and scraggly branches. The window flies open with a rush of moldy air, and from the cold, unlit room beyond, a pair of glowing green eyes emerge.

Heart in her throat, she can only stare in horror as a deep, baritone voice calls out, “Who are you? And what are you doing on my property?”