Well. Cynthia was back in the UK. Clark was unhappy about being called. Especially considering the second emergence was happening. And it was going to be a very wild night again. At least I figured it would be. Small town in the middle of nowhere, Czech Republic? Yeah, like two more people emerged in my town, and they knew to ask me for help. And I told them what to do.

It was morning now, the day after. One of the most fun things was seeing a video of Vulptrix and Nightbinder working together to stop a Kaiju-ed up toddler. I was tinkering away in the workshop, when I got an email, surprisingly enough. School was out for two weeks again to sort everything out. “Well, makes sense I guess.” Was what I mumbled as I walked into the living room, squatting down and poking Klára. “Hey bitch, no school for you for two weeks. So you nurse that hangover.” Her grumbling was loud, she flailed her arms at me, but I deftly dodged. Before checking in on Šárka. “Heya sweetie, school’s out for two weeks.” She sat up in her bed, yawned and rubbed her eye sleepily, nodding at me. With that out of the way, I returned to work.

“You said you wouldn’t make one.” Dare was sitting on my chair, observing me.

“I’m not. This isn’t what you think.” I put away the soldering iron as Dare rolled her eyes at me.

“Look me in the cameras and tell me that that isn’t a gauntlet.” She pointed towards my workbench, and I sighed.

“Listen, I have no clue what the bastard is packing. I just know he SOMEHOW looks jacked as all hell. Like, when the fuck does a bishop have time to hit the gym?” I grabbed the gauntlet Dare had gestured towards, putting it on. “So, I need insurance. I don’t think a regular shock glove is enough.” I punched the air to test how it felt. It felt solid, and comfortable. “Good. I think I’m gonna combine it with the gliding harness I designed for Gargoyle.” I took the gauntlet off and set it down.

“Bridget. Bridget you’re making an exoskeleton to beat the Pope up with. Why don’t you just call the Coats. I’m sure Karel would help.” Dare hopped off the chair to walk to me. I rolled my eyes at her.

“Because the deal says if I get someone trying to kidnap me. It doesn’t mention going after a thief.” I took a quick trip to the basement to grab the needed materials, ignoring Dare’s sighs. Sometimes you have to build a ridiculous thing for yourself. Sometimes you’re building the thing to punch a religious figure in the face.

Meanwhile, Francesco was once again summoned to His Holiness’ side. Upon entering the office, he was greeted by an unfamiliar sight. His Holiness was holding something like a golden necklace. “Strange this device. According to the devout woman who brought it to us, her son is responsible. A son believing himself to be a woman. And who was taken by the devil and changed into a mouse creature for his sin.” He turned to face Francesco, approaching him. “According to her, it makes you tell the truth, and hurts you if you life. Francesco, would you be so kind as to test this for me?”

Francesco could only nod at his Holiness’ request, feeling the cold metal click around his neck. His breathing hitched a bit as His Holiness grabbed Francesco’s shoulder while standing behind him. “Now to see if it truly works. Francesco, say something truthful, introduce yourself.”

“I am Francesco Quatromagi, born in Rome, a papal guard.” The Pope nodded at Francesco’s reply.

“That was much too easy. Let’s try having you tell a lie. Something absolutely ridiculous. Like that you wish to have sex with me.” He had stepped in front of Francesco, his height meaning he’d always look down on the guard. Francesco clenched his fist hard, hoping His Holiness had not noticed the sudden nervousness. If he said it it wouldn’t be a lie, even if the thought was sinful, and the idea blasphemous to him. Him, having sex with the Pope. Impossible. Truly degenerate. Francesco took a deep breath before his next sentence.

“The Golden Statue that appeared in the middle of the Vatican is not a wEEEHREEEWOOOO AAAAA!!!” He grasped at the collar, his eyes going wide from the pain. Not an electric shock. Nothing that would leave a scar or truly cause damage. No. The Collar had a more sinister delivery method than that. How much do you know about spicy peppers? About how they actually work. If you know all that’s about to be revealed as a fun fact, then power to you. See, the basic idea is simple. Spicy peppers have capsaicin in their seeds to keep mammals from eating them, as it has no effect on birds who eat the seeds whole. Capsaicin upon touching our tongue or skin causes a chemical reaction that doesn’t truly damage anything. The chemicals produced send a signal to your brain telling it your tongue is on fire. Your brain freaks out and goes “okay tongue is on fire, pain response.”

And we humans made a sport of cultivating spicier and spicier peppers to flex on people with our tolerance. What a mad, mad people we are. The Scoville scale is based on capsaicin concentration. And right now? Right now Francesco was experiencing about two million of them, directly to his brain. It made his knees buckle as he fell on the floor, tugging at the collar and hoping to get it off, before His Holiness stood behind him and removed the collar. “Truly a marvelous piece. Although I’m surprised you chose to contradict an observable truth, like the sky is blue, instead of saying what I suggested.” His Holiness was turned away from Francesco at this point, who was rubbing his neck.

“I figured. I figured considering it’s creator, that he’d have a sick sense of humor and that it wouldn’t detect such a thing as a lie, Your Holiness.” Francesco got himself off the floor, straightening himself out as much as he could, His Holiness nodding at his observation.

Stolen story; please report.

“That makes sense. You are dismissed.” The Pope put the collar back in his desk before he sat down in his chair.

Satisfied with my creation, I stepped outside to stretch. “I should probably make a mask too. Hell a mouse themed welding mask would be awesome.” I took in the crisp winter air, still surprised about the snow. I mean seriously. We haven’t had snow in such a thick layer stay around for this long in years. It was honestly freaking me out a bit. I sighed and stepped back inside, grabbing a couple things from the basement. “It’s welding goggles put as lenses in a full face mask. You don’t need a genius to make that. Just someone who knows how to build things. Only took me like an hour to make. And with my gear ready, I prepared everything in my van.

Which meant it was time to go. I made my way up to the living room to check in on Šárka and Non. They had become fast friends, and by god Non needed the chance to be a normal kid. Desperately. “Right. Šárka, Non, my preparations are ready, I got a whole plan figured out. And I’m going to need your abilities for it, Non.” I turned to face the agender sweetheart, who tilted their head in confusion.

“Uhm. Okay. In what way, Bridget?” They put their hands together on the couch, waiting for me to answer.

“I need you to find where the Pope keeps the collar once we’re close. Clark will then make a rift there so I can grab it, and then I’m going to go give His Holiness a piece of my mind.” I leaned on the couch, as Šárka scratched her head.

“If you’re using Clark and Non for their rifts, why not just do it from here? No need to go down there in the van, and it keeps you somewhat safer.” Was her comment. And she was right. It would be much easier. But dangit! I put speakers on the bottom of the van to blast songs. And I wanted to blast The Pope Song while approaching the Vatican from them. Oh wait I could just plop down a radio. Okay let’s do that.

“Yeah you’re right. I’ll just blast The Pope Song from something else. Alright Non, whenever you’re ready.” They nodded and closed their eyes, and I could see their body go stiff as a statue. The way they explained the power to me, the main thing was Astral Projection. Great for scouting. But if they reached a point, they could make a rift to reach out and take something from there. Simple concept, great for spying, completely undetectable, unless you see ghosts. Which, none of us did. Although Dare always go weird about the power use, saying she felt Non like signal interference, without truly seeing their astral form.

It took like three hours, and in that time I managed to get Clark over, as well as made dinner. Non popped back right as I finished with preparing it, so I dropped the little GPS tracker through her portal and spent a lovely meal with my family. And then I got suited up. My best overalls. A trans pride flag shirt. Big stompy boots. The new welding mask. And, most important of all, the harness. I let Clark open the rift as I stepped through.

And there he stood. The Motherfucker. The highest ranking asshole in the church. His predecessor having called me a nuclear bomb. Me and every other trans person. Abominations. Destroying nature and sanctity of marriage and biology. Well Mister My-Organisation-Protects-Pedophiles. Have a nuke to the face. “Good Evening your Holiness. Love the redecorating. Definitely a great choice to swap the gold leaf for a furry statue right out your door. And how cute, you think that blanket covers their raging erection.” Good, I got his attention. I exaggeratedly curtsied. “Bridget Crackspanner. My Mother stole and sent you something of mine. I’m here to take it back.” He turned towards me and sneered.

“So your true name would be Marek Maidenburg, then? If you want the collar so bad, here you go.” He was fast. Faster than I anticipated. And soon, I found it around my neck. I could only laugh. “Now confess, demon! Confess your sins! Say your true name, denounce the sickness you’re plagued by, and return to the flock!” Oh my god was this fucker for real. I kept laughing. Then I grabbed his arm and started crushing it a bit.

“My name is Bridget Crackspanner. I’m a 23 year old woman with a bachelor’s degree in Engineering. I love women in a romantic and sexual sense. I do not love men in that way. I have an amazing daughter I adopted. And I’m going to beat the ever loving shit out of you.” I let go of his arm, jabbing up a punch from my left arm to his ribs. The moment it connected, I heard a crack, before he flew back five feet. But he didn’t fall down. He was standing strong, raising his arms up to fight. He spit some blood on the floor.

“Lies, all of that is lies, you protected yourself from it somehow. You made sure it wouldn’t work on you!” He yelled at me, as I rolled my eyes.

“There isn’t a weREWOLF STATUE WITH A RAGING ERECTION OUTSIDE.” Yup shit fuck it hurt it hurt so so bad. But I stood. I didn’t grasp for the collar. I didn’t try to rip it off. There was sweat on my brow, and my expression let him know it worked. “Now you might be wondering how the fuck she’s still standing after that shock.” I ran towards him, feigning a left hook, but instead going for a low kick. It definitely didn’t have the same impact as my punches, but I could trip him down.

“My best guard was on his knees after a lie! The same one you just said! You demon, how?!” He was standing up again, hoping to uppercut me, but I stepped back, and the moment he was standing, I kneed him in the groin.

“You try being misgendered for years. Your identity denied, called a phase, labelling you a freak-” Jab to his side, and one to his face. “-WITHOUT building up pain tolerance. I’m me. I’m nobody else but me.” Uppercut, he tries to left hook me, I bent down and punch him in the dick. “And Me is a trans woman and a lesbian, who turned into a stunning mouse girl.” He tries to kick. I grab his leg and hit his knee. There is a crunch. He crumples. I hit his face a couple of times to bruise it up. The moment he’s knocked out, I put him in his chair. And then I take out a soldering iron. A small one, easy to transport. He’s gonna be marked for life. I leave a message on his chest, after tearing open his clothes. Okay wow the dude is JACKED. The Pope is Shredded. The Pope has an Eight Pack. And he’s gonna get ‘Trans People Are Their Gender, Signed God’ written on him. In Hebrew, Greek and Latin.

I give Clark a call. The rift opens for me to pass through. I hit my forehead with my palm, forgetting something important. “Shit. Clark. Hand me the Boom Box.” He does so swiftly, as I walk onto the balcony, and blast The Pope Song from it on repeat, at full volume, with extra speakers to make it louder, along with plugging it into the PA system. Now I can run through the rift back home. Oh wait. I grabbed the Pope’s hands and used them to unlock the collar. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fashionable, but I’m not going to keep wearing it forever. As the rift closed behind me, I removed my harness and mask, quietly stepped into my workshop, and swiftly disassembled the collar.

I’m not going to deal with this bullshit again.