Six months ago, Joan was just another public relations flack. She worked nine to five, put out fires with press releases and struggled mightily to make corporate executives seem human. Six months ago, The Accident gave her control over magnetic fields and she was recruited by Super Force. Now Joan – or rather “Miss Magnetic” – dedicated her life to protecting the citizens of Metro City.
Being a superhero wasn’t all spaceflight and giant robots. As the newest member of the team, Joan manned the Trouble Alert, a gigantic piece of machinery lined with rows of lights and old style television screens. When a light flashed red, she called one of the other – senior – superheroes: Mighty Man or Amazonia by day, Vigilante and Nighthawk in the evenings. They would search, rescue, battle the latest plot by the League of Dread. In fact, Miss Magnetic had yet to make her debut on the streets of Metro City except when she picked up lunch at the Chinese restaurant down the street from Protection Hall.
The Trouble Alert flashed red. The black and white screen showed a city bus – failed brakes – careening out of control. Joan straightened the Spandex of her costume. No time to call the others. The bus roared past Protection Hall a moment later. Miss Magnetic gave chase. Joan was an avid jogger, but it was quite another matter to run full speed in three inch heels.
“Nice cosplay. Where’s the convention?” joked one citizen. She slowed down to shoot back a thin tendril of force over her shoulder, wiping the image he had taken with his camera phone. Some of the misgivings about her costume re-emerged in her mind. Did the black field lines crossing her body make her look fat? Perhaps they should have been North-South rather than East-West.
Someone screamed. The bus was bearing down on a baby stroller! Joan stretched out a field to yank it out of harm’s way. Who leaves a stroller at the corner of a busy street? Where the hell were the parents? Joan thought. Metro City Family Services would be getting a call when she finished her mission.
The street ended in the large front windows of Bigger’s Department Store. The bus was seconds away. Miss Magnetic gathered up all her strength. A five-hundred-Gauss field flew out from her fingertips. It skittered against the vinyl seats and glass windows of the bus. She concentrated on the engine block, the thick bumpers and the frame. She planted her feet on the sidewalk and pulled. There was a feeling of flying and then everything went dark.
“She’s coming around,” said someone. Joan opened her eyes.
“What happened?” she asked.
“A bus crashed into Bigger’s Department Store,” said Vigilante grimly.
“I thought I had it,” she said. “I felt it in my field.”
“You only control magnetism, not mass,” he replied. “The bus outweighed you 200 to 1. We found you attached to its side like a refrigerator magnet.”
Joan fell back against the thin hospital pillow.
“We’ve been thinking about your position at Super Force,” said Mighty Man. He looked more uncomfortable than the time he battled his metrosexual opposite from the Anti-Universe.
“Am I fired?” she asked.
“No,” said Mighty Man. “No, we just feel street duty might not be the best fit for you. You see, we have some other… problems you might be able to help us with.”
Amazonia stepped forward. “You see, we have a bit of a perception issue. We used to have better control of our press. We had an in with the folks at the Daily Sun.” She cast a sideways glance at Mighty Man.
“No one reads newspapers anymore,” grumbled Vigilante. “Print is dead.”
Amazonia pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. “We do a valuable public service,” she said. “But these days no one talks about that. Instead, they want to goad Vigilante into punching a superazzi, or hear Mighty Man offer another opinion straight out of Depression-era Missouri –“
“But Jewish bankers do control most of the economy. It’s common knowledge,” protested Mighty Man.
Vigilante rubbed his temples.
“I come from an island populated solely by women. My private life is just that – private.” Mighty Man stifled a giggle. Amazonia glared back at him. “And poor Richard. He has Tourette’s, you know. It’s why no one would take him from the orphanage except for billionaire Bryce Cain.”
“Holy f-f-fuckfuckfuck– foot in the mouth disease. I can’t h-h-h-hellhellhell – help it,” said Nighthawk.
“Let me get this straight,” said Joan. “I have the ability to generate a magnetic field a thousand times stronger than the earth and you want me to do public relations?”
“Five-hundred-Gauss isn’t all that much,” said Vigilante. “The MRI machine in Metro City hospital does three times that just looking for broken bones.”
“Consider it a promotion,” said Mighty Man. “We’ll make you… mysterious.”
“Believe me,” said Amazonia, “it’s for the best. Battling evil may look fun, but fighting while wearing a bustier… especially around Christmas with all the snow…”
“Okay, okay, you win,” said Joan. “I’ll do it.”
“…AND ONE MORNING, PLAIN-JANE JOAN MILFORD FOUND HERSELF TRANSFORMED INTO THE MYSTERIOUS MISS MAGNETIC!!!”
– excerpt from the Super Force biography home page © 2012 SuperCorps, LLC, all rights reserved.