Hohoho, Merry Christmas… Not! If I had to describe Hell, at this point, I’d probably describe a Christmas-Dinner hosted by my father. Calling it pompous would be an understatement. There was enough food to feed a third-world country, every sycophant of the greater New Brunsburg area, every toady, every upstart, every-damned-one was attending. And they all felt a need to slobber over me, giving oh-so-heartfelt compliments in the hope that their fawning adulation for his daughter would make my father feel good about them. Not that there was ever any hope that he would care about their attitude towards me as a person, as long as they respected me as part of the King-Dynasty.

A bombing would have rid the world of so much trash that evening, I was almost sad that nobody blew the party to high heaven. Not that anybody would have a chance. There was a ton of security around and even a complement of the Heros' League, all done up in their Red-Blue regalia, showing the world that KingCorps was a great contributor to the Heros' League and their goal.

What made the evening perfect was that my supposed fiance was in attendance and seated next to me. So we could enjoy our relationship, at least that was what Christmas Barbie told me before the reception. Yes, enjoying the relationship with the guy who made sure that I had not a single friend at school while he happily courted every female with a pulse, bedding not few of them, as the rumors went. At least he did not have his side-kick with him, I think I had heard his name was Denis or something like that. But I could survive the evening with Clark without resorting to murder, I had training in tuning him out and nodding at the right times.

But I suppose I got lucky that year, for some reason Clark was quiet, subdued even. He did not brag about his achievements on the football-field, ok, that was because he quit football at the start of the year, and he did not brag about his academic-achievement. Ok, that one was probably because his class-rank was about a dozen places below mine. He did talk a little about his friends but more in generalities, not his normal braggadocio-behaviour. He acted almost like a civilised human. Well, almost.

However, the thing that made the whole evening worthwhile was something completely out of the left field. I had banged my head against the ‘mobile power-creation or storage’-problem for weeks, looking for a solution that would allow me to use the prototype-armour I had designed but not yet built. I was looking up at the crystal-chandelier, looking at the sparkling light in the multi-faceted crystals when I felt inspiration strike me like lightning. Luckily, it was after dinner and me stumbling was noticed by Christmas Barbie who immediately asked if I was alright. I managed to feign weakness without making a scene, keeping my mask in place while letting it crack a little and she was happy to whisk me away from the event and up into a prepared suite. After she had fussed around me for a little, I managed to convince her that I just needed some rest and she let me alone.

My mind was still firing on all cylinders and in a frenzy of ideas, I managed to write down my ideas and communicate them with Galatea. Together, we succeeded in making a wild inspirational idea into a logically sound schematic. When I had seen the chandelier, I had the inspiration that it might be possible to create a crystal-substrate that stored energy directly into the crystal-matrix, allowing me to store insane amounts of energy within limited space.

Depending on the structure, the energy-density I might achieve bordered on the insane. The only problem I saw, was charging and discharging-rates. Both needed to be controlled quite carefully or Bad-Things™ would happen. And by Bad-Things™ I’m talking about an uncontrolled total discharge within a timeframe ranging between micro-seconds and minutes. Micro-seconds would mean a big, big bang, almost at the level of a small nuclear weapon but only probably only heat and kinetic energy. Minutes would mean that the substrate heated up to temperatures reminiscent of the surface of the sun while it melted itself into a highly toxic fluid. It could not turn gaseous, at least I didn’t think so, it would more likely discharge excess energy in the form of radiation. Sadly, I wasn’t sure what kind of radiation.

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So yes, an uncontrolled discharge would definitely be bad. But someone once said ‘Freedom isn’t free.’ Mine might be a little more costly if that idea went bad but that’s just how the cookie crumbles.

Anyway, if I could create the substrate as I thought, I would be able to power the armour for hours on end. Creating it was definitely a possibility, I just needed the right conditions and materials, both looked rather possible. A pain in the behind but possible. And it would allow me to use a few other ideas I had.

I had a thought, at that point it wasn’t even a fully fleshed out idea, about using energetic repulsion to make the armour hover a few cems above ground. Not enough to call it flying but if I managed to create a repulsion-field, I might be able to allow it frictionless travel. It would look and probably steer similar to ice-skates, allowing me to travel at descent speeds. The challenge would be more in the field of steering and control than maximum speed. At least I thought so.

But I had not even the slightest idea how to make it hover above every type of surface, it wasn’t as if I could use magnetic repulsion, unless I only wanted to be able to glide over magnetic surfaces which were rather rare. No, if I wanted to make it truly useful, I’d have to allow it to work against mass-density in relation to its distance. One could call it anti-gravity. Yes, I was not thinking in small measures. One of the least understood forces known to man, and I wanted to build something that inverted it in a controlled manner.

There were other things I would love to have, some kind of weapon was one of them. I had ideas for a rail-gun, using it to propel a solid slug at insane speeds and if the energy-storage crystal worked, it would be a definite possibility. I’d just need a solid recoil-absorption system in the armour, throwing 120 grams of solid metal slug at a few times the speed of sound produced some nasty recoil. Action equals reaction and all that jazz. Hell, without my frame I wouldn’t want to shoot a large, conventional pistol and those had but a fraction of the power my railgun idea had.

Another problem I had with it was a little different. It was too powerful. The railgun I had planned would kill all but the most durable Powered out there. Hell, it would easily wreck most armoured vehicles, maybe even a tank depending on the location hit.

If I went out and only had lethal options, I would limit myself greatly. Everything I had read on the darkweb hinted at a strong but unwritten code of conduct among Powered. Unless you wanted to bring down a lot of heat onto yourself, you did not go straight to lethal options, you did not go after people outside of costume, you did not go after their families. The last was enforced with extreme prejudice.

So I needed something non-lethal. I had ideas about using a low-speed rail-gun with a larger projectile, firing a high-mass projectile at low velocity with the option of increased velocity but to make it effective, I’d need a lot of mass at relatively low density, similarly to launching a baseball at pitcher-speeds. Those would hurt but unless I was truly unlucky they would not kill. But going after Powered with what was effectively a souped up pitching machine? I’d rather have an extreme-makeover by Business-Barbie. It would be less embarrassing.

No, I needed a medium to deliver kinetic energy that did not involve large, slow-moving objects or smaller, fast moving objects. In essence, I needed some kind of magic, but sadly that was not in my purview.

Just as I was debating the possibility of using either laser or maser as non-lethal weapon, I heard the suite-door so I had to hide my tablet and pretend to be a good girl and resting.

“Hey Alexandria. Are you alright? You looked a little unsteady when I brought you up.” asked Christmas Barbie.

“Yes, Grace, I am alright. Don’t worry, you can go back down and enjoy your party.” I said, trying to make my voice sound composed.

“No, honey, you don’t need to put up a front. If you need me, I will stay up here with you. I noticed you looked stressed while sitting next to young Mr. Greene. Do you want to talk about it?” she asked as she came closer to the bed, her voice tinged with faked concern. Oh, great, now my father was sending his loyal barbie after me to sound me out. Just fantastic, Merry effing’ Christmas to me.