“So, I guess you haven’t been female for very long?” Jessica began. “If you had, you would have been properly dressed, I’m sure. Are you okay with everything?” She asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah… Yeah I am okay. I’m better than okay, actually. I was transgender before this ‘event’ happened today. This is literally my dream come true.”

“I guess you won the lottery, then.” Jessica replied, her tone friendly. “I don’t suppose you know your sizes?”

I smirked wryly. “I haven’t even seen myself in a mirror yet, Jessica. I have no idea what I look like, except that I have short blonde hair, and I’ve been blessed with a large bosom.”

“So that would be a no…” She laughed. “I’ll do my best to help you out, but I can’t take too long. My team needs me back.”

“I understand. You know, Jessica, I do have some money. I could just buy my own stuff, if you drop me off. I know you’re needed.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?” She replied. “We’re only a few minutes away.”

“The city sounds like a warzone out there.” I commented. “I can hear so much of it.” It was true – I could hear families arguing and screaming at their children or spouses who had mutated, and others that were praying for the madness outside their doors to end. I could hear the pop, pop of gunfire, and the wail of sirens. I could hear the sounds of helicopters flying above us, and the sound of a hundred televisions turned to different channels. I could hear the hurt and the dying… and at the moment, I couldn’t do a damn thing.

“It is crazy tonight.” Jessica agreed. “Crazier than I’ve ever seen it, which is pretty crazy. When the Raptors won the NBA last June, four games to three, I thought we were going to have to call in the army to deal with all the celebrating fans. This is way worse than that.”

We probably would have continued talking, but Jessica pulled into the parking lot of a Wal Mart Superstore on Gerrard street – about two or three kilometers from where I fought Trash Panda and Rhino.

“Jessica, I should take it from here.” I said. “I can handle buying some clothes. Your fellow officers need you right now. Thanks for the ride.”

Jessica nodded, looking relieved. It was obvious to me she was conflicted – she wanted to help me, but she wanted to help her fellows. I just made the decision easier. “You’re welcome. I should get going.”

“I understand,” I replied. “Thanks for the blanket.”

She chuckled. “I think I got it from a paramedic earlier tonight. Keep it. I have no idea who it belongs to or where its proper place is.”

I nodded. “Will do. You’d better get going.”

“See you too. Try and stay safe, if you can.” She suggested

“I’ll try.”

As she drove off, I wrapped the blanket around me as much as I could, like a cloak, and walked towards the store entrance. I wondered idly if I was the most oddly dressed (or undressed) person in the store this evening. At Wal-Mart, I might not be. I grabbed a shopping basket, and headed towards the ladies wear section, ignoring the odd looks I got from a couple of cashiers, the greeter and a few customers.

I felt more than a little bit out of place – I mean, I’d looked at ladies clothes before, but this was the first time I had gone shopping for them myself. The sheer number of colors and styles of clothes was overwhelming, but I narrowed my search to the bare minimum – a couple of sports bras, underwear, a sweatshirt, sweatpants, socks, and a pair of running shoes that fit. Find the bras was easy – but I knew I had no idea what my size was. I guessed my chest was L or XL, and grabbed one sports bra of each size, and grabbed ladies medium and large versions of some simple gray sweatpants and sweatshirts. One of the sweatshirts was embossed with the superman logo – so I couldn’t say no. Duh! The rest was relatively easy to find, but it still took me about 20 minutes.

I headed to the changing rooms, and saw a very bored clerk waiting outside the rooms – I guess she was the chaperone who ensured the stores product didn’t walk off with the customers? She was in her thirties, with brown hair curled into a bun, and a face that looked fairly pretty. Her nametag said ‘Lucy’. As I approached, she took note of me, and definitely noticed my blanket and tattered pants, and bare feet.

“Can I help you, Miss?” she asked.

“Um… yeah,” I replied. “My clothes got damaged out there tonight, and I need new ones. If I find ones that fit, can I buy them here and wear them out?”

“Sort of,” She said. “You can wear them out, but I’ll have to take the tags up to the front till, and have them ring you up there.”

“Oh, cool. That works too.” I said. “Can I get into the change rooms?”

“Sure thing, dear.” She replied, handing me a key labeled #2.

I took the key and went into the change rooms – which were pretty much like any change rooms I’ve ever been in. Closing the door behind me, I let the blanket drop, and took a look at myself in the full length mirror attached to the wall inside the change room.

It was the first time I’d seen myself since that afternoon at work… At first glance, I looked like a tall, pretty blonde woman wrapped in a blanket with dirty feet. I let the blanket drop, and I realized how off I had been in my first estimate. I was tall – maybe 5’ 11”, and my face, although dirty from my brawl with Rhino and Trash Panda, was beautiful, in a strong sensual way rather than a pretty or delicate way. I had the most striking purple eyes I had ever seen. Hadn’t Elizabeth Taylor had purple eyes? I couldn’t remember for sure, but I could tell they were bright and clear, and made my face look very attractive. I had killer curves – the kind that any woman would be proud to possess. My hips, waist and bust created a shape like a literal hourglass, and I couldn’t believe my luck. Jessica was right! I had won the appearance lottery, for sure. I looked strong – not freaky overdeveloped weightlifter strong, but extremely athletic and fit, with a lot of muscle tone. Awesome! My only bone of contention was the fairly large set of breasts I had been granted by the strange storm that caused all this chaos in the first place. I mean, I wasn’t a connoisseur of breasts by any means, but they seemed really large! Together, the whole package looked like the body of a supermodel, or a superheroine from the comics. I gulped in apprehension. To say ‘thrown in at the deep end’ was a strong part of what I was feeling at that moment would be an understatement.

I started by stripping, then putting on the underwear. I couldn’t help but notice my old male parts were gone, and I had very new parts to replace them, but exploration of that undiscovered country would have to wait until the city wasn’t devolving into complete chaos. The underwear felt silky soft, and fit perfectly – so much better than my boxers! I felt a little thrill again as I realized, this is me! Next I tried the sports bras. The Large fit well enough, but it was a bit tight, so I decided to buy the other one too, in case I needed to layer them and wear both. Next came socks, and the sweatpants, sweatshirt, and shoes. I was a ladies extra large in most sizes, mostly to accommodate my bust and hips, and my height. All together, my ensemble looked simple, but for the first time since my change, I felt put together, and in control. I looked pretty good too, even in sweats and running shoes! I smiled at the reflection in the mirror. I could get really used to this!

I decided to throw out my other clothes – the shirt was history, and the pants were riddled with bullet holes and torn in several places. I stepped out, and went to find Lucy. I didn’t have far to look – she turned to me as I left the change rooms, and called out to me.

“Did you find something you liked?” She asked.

“Definitely.” I replied. “Can I throw these out here?” I asked, motioning to my old clothes. I transferred my keys and my wallet to the pockets of the sweatpants, but I realized I needed one more thing.

“Sure thing, dearie.” Lucy replied. She took my garbage clothing and put it in the trash can. “Do you have the tags for those clothes?”

“Yes, right here.” I said, handing her the tags for the clothes. “I just need a hoodie or a jacket or something.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Lucy nodded, and went over to a rack that had some pretty nice ones – a few in pale blue, a few in lavender, and a couple in bright red. The only color in my size was bright red, so I grabbed one of those, and tried it on – and it fit pretty well. We headed up to the front tills, and she gave the tags to the cashier, and rang me up. I was a little worried when it came time to pay, but the cashier didn’t even look at my ATM card, so I ended up nervous for nothing. I was a little surprised at the cost of the sports bras, but I figured I’d get the real sticker shock when it came time to replace my entire wardrobe. I sighed, and wrote that little feeling off as a problem for another day.

I thanked Lucy, and the cashier, and walked back out into the night, feeling considerably more in control of the situation. The night was still filled with a cacophony of sirens, and people calling for help. It was time I got back to work.

* * *

I could see the fire burning… it was a 12 story apartment building in Toronto’s downtown district. The fire department was just arriving, and dozens – maybe hundreds – of people were outside dressed in little more than their pajamas, wondering if their home and belongings were going to be incinerated. I didn’t blame the Fire department – they had been putting out fires all over the city, and were exhausted and run ragged. I had put out a few fires myself this evening – and the new clothes I had bought stunk of smoke.

I had discovered the trick of blowing frost breath from my mouth – and it had proven handy putting out a few fires so far. Hopefully it would do so again here, I thought. I looked to the fiercest part of the blaze; it seemed centered on the southwest corner of the building, about 8 floors up. I crouched, and leapt up to the balcony where the fires seemed the strongest, and pulled myself over the rail into a plume of thick, choking smoke. Coughing a moment, I tried the patio door. It was Locked! I punched the glass door with my fist, and easily shattered the door, making my way inside. The apartment was ablaze, and the heat was a powerful force – but oddly, I didn’t feel it more than a light warmth.

Trying my frost breath again, I blasted the fire with icy cold. It was draining, but not excessively so, and I figured I could probably get the fires in this building put out before I needed a breather. The fire in the apartment snuffed, and went out – and frost and ice, now starting to melt, covered everything in a thin layer. I listened to hear for any people or animals – but the apartment was clear. Thank god, I thought. I had been too late at the last fire, and an older man and two birds had succumbed to smoke inhalation before I could arrive. It still weighed on me – his face, so calm – but bright red, like a cherry tomato, his lips and nose burned at the edges – and those poor birds in their cage, looking asleep. I knew I was going to have nightmares tonight, and maybe for a long time after.

I left the apartment, and moved to the next; its door was unlocked. I breathed frost on the fires in there, and the apartments after that, and after that. By the time I finished with the four burning apartments, I could hear the fire fighters arrive with their hoses, gear and oxygen. I stepped out of the smoldering apartment, and waved them over.

“I put the majority of the fires out!” I called. “I’m going to look for any survivors.”

The fireman in question simply nodded, and motioned to his comrades – who moved in with hoses and axes to quell any smoldering fires. The word had gotten around to the Police and Fire Department relatively quickly that a superhuman was helping them out – and apparently my description was “Smoking hot blonde in a tracksuit.” I laughed when I found that out – at the second fire scene about a half hour ago. Smoking Hot… It seemed funny at the time.

I moved down the hallway, holding my breath to preserve my breathable air, and heard nothing – so I headed upstairs to the 9th floor. There were a few fires here too – which I quickly put out – but what disturbed me was the sobbing I could hear in a room nearby. It sounded like a male, sobbing uncontrollably – probably a young male. I approached the sounds – it was inside an apartment, number 909. The smoke on this floor was thick, but not too bad – if you crouched, there was some breathable air. I knocked.

Initially there was no answer, so I tried the door – and it opened. Moving into the apartment, I could see that it too had been scorched – but the flames here seemed to not have done much more than leave soot on the walls – there was little fire damage itself to the building. In the living room was a young man – probably no older than 17 years, sobbing over the body of an older woman – in her early sixties, at least. I could hear her heartbeat was weak – but she was covered in light burns, that had turned her skin red-black, and the room sickly smelled of bacon. I felt ill, but moved forward.

“Excuse me, young man?” I said. “I need to get her to a Doctor, like right now.”

The boy whirled, and looked up at me from where he had been sobbing – and burst into flames. “Stay back!” he cried. “I don’t want to hurt you too!”

“It’s okay, kid. You can’t hurt me.” I replied. “Is that your grandma? She’s really sick – she needs a doctor.”

“What? She’s dead… isn’t she?” He looked shocked, but hopeful.

“She’s alive, but barely. Can I take her to the Paramedics downstairs?” I asked.

“Oh my god, yes! I thought she was dead! She’s my grandma – her name is Kendra. Kendra Stapleton.”

I bent down and gently picked her up. “What’s your name?” I asked the young man.

“Mike… Michael Stapleton. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I really didn’t.”

I looked at the young man on fire, and could see the orange red flames lick over his body and clothes without touching them. Likely he had had a traumatic afternoon, much as I had. I smiled at him. “I believe you, Michael. I had some problems when I got my powers, too. I don’t blame you – and I don’t think Kendra will either. I’ll be right back, okay? She needs to get to the paramedics.”

Michael nodded, and I ran for the stairs, blurring with my speed to get Mrs. Stapleton some help. I blurred up to the paramedics, and called for help – and several bystanders gasped as I appeared seemingly from nowhere. I had been getting that a lot tonight. “She’s got second degree burns and I think some smoke inhalation!” I called out to the pair of paramedics that were here.

“We’ve got her, ma’am. Thank you.” The two paramedics started checking her vitals, while one asked me some questions. “What’s her name, miss?”

“Her grandson said it was Kendra Stapleton. I don’t know if she has OHIP, and as far as I know her ID is in her apartment. I have to go and see to her grandson.”

“I understand, ma’am. Go do what you have to do – we’ve got her. We’re taking her to Toronto General.” Meanwhile the two paramedics worked to stabilize the elderly woman, giving her oxygen, covering her with a blanket, and preparing her to get to the hospital.

Seeing that Kendra was in good hands, I ran back upstairs to speak with Michael. He was still standing in the apartment – but he was holding a purse, and a bag with some clothes. His fires had gone out – and his face was still red from crying. He looked exhausted.

“Hey, Mike. I’m back.” I called from the hallway. I didn’t want to startle him to the point he exploded or set more fires by accident. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” He replied. “I’m getting some stuff for my Grandma for when she’s in the hospital.”

“Good thinking!” I answered back. “Care to tell me what happened?”

Mike looked nervous. “Am I going to go to jail?” He asked.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I replied. “I just want to know.”

“I was inside playing on my Xbox, and there was this big clap of thunder and some lights – and I felt like I was on fire, and I passed out. My apartment was down a floor, in 804. When I came too, I was on fire – and so was the apartment – and I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off!” Michael was very upset – he sounded not quite hysterical but only just.

“I didn’t know what was happening. My mom and dad were out working, so I tried going to see Grandma, and I accidentally burnt her.” He started crying again. “I killed her, didn’t I?”

I didn’t know what to do, so I approached, and gave him a hug. “You didn’t kill her. She’s on her way to the hospital. Toronto General. She should be okay in time.”

He clung to me and sobbed more. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone! I didn’t know how to turn it off!”

I held the young man for a short while, while he cried it out – and then his tears and sobs ended, and he pulled back. “Thanks, I think.” He said, his face bright red.

“You’re welcome. Can you control the fire now?” I asked.

“Yeah, unless I’m startled, scared or surprised. I can keep them inside most of the time.”

“Good. Do you want me to get you to the hospital, so you can be with your Grandma?”

“Please.” He replied. “What’s your name?”

“I’ve been calling myself Guardian tonight. I suppose it’s an okay name.”

“Heh… You totally look like Power Girl in a sweat suit.” He said, looking at me.

“Maybe,” I laughed. “But if I call myself Guardian, I don’t get sued by DC Comics.”

He laughed too. “I guess not. Can we go? I want to make sure my Grandma is okay.”

“Sure thing, Mike. Let’s go.” I motioned for the door, and we walked to the stairs, and went down. By the time we reached the ground floor, the paramedics were long gone with Mrs. Stapleton.

“Need a lift?” I asked.

“Hell, yeah!” Mike grinned.

I smiled. If I had been asked that two days ago, by a smoking hot superheroine, I’d have said the same thing, I thought. Why not? “Okay – then hold on!” I scooped him up, and ran for Toronto General.