FAN-FICTION CONTEST - TO TRICK, PERCHANCE TO TREAT

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FAN-FICTION CONTEST - TO TRICK, PERCHANCE TO TREAT

Hard Left Hook
OK, this is a 2nd try as I never got a response to my original posting from either Sentinel or HR Players Pages.
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Hard Left Hook  
HR ID: 27350
FAN-FICTION CONTEST - Category One or OPEN?
TO TRICK, PERCHANCE TO TREAT -
The Tale of the Leggings of Larceny

I don't know if I did this correctly for it to be entered into the contest.

Madame Marvelous,
Thank you for the Halloween gift. This one's for you.
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TO TRICK, PERCHANCE TO TREAT -
The Tale of the Leggings of Larceny

   It had been a long Halloween night. Both Heroes and Villains arriving at my door in droves to sample the gifts and goodies I was handinging out . . . Bux, MP, Gear . . . you know, the usual knick knacks. Surprisingly, no one seemed interested in the Butterfly Wings. They were cute - even if I do say so myself.
   I was due for a break, so I turned off my lights and locked the door to head out for the rest of the night. Can't be too careful these days with Morphonic monsters and thugs roaming about ya know. I had amassed a pretty fair haul by the time I spotted Madame Marvelous' house at the end of the block. Sitting there limned in the bright moonlight, it was - dare I say - Mahh- velous.
   A few quick strides, three sharp knocks, and the door swung open to reveal the most perfectly punctual purveyor of punishment to evil doers everywhere. We talked shop for a bit and caught up on lives . . . who we'd caught and crimes we'd foiled. Winding up our chat, she offered me the last treat she had at the bottom of her rather large bowl. It was a pair of Morpho-tendons, and they were even in my usual colors. Thank the Dream Lords that they were spandex or there's no way they would have fit over my bulky thighs and muscled ass.
   As I said goodbye and turned to go, her hall clock struck the witching hour as a wave of disorientation briefly swept over me. Adroitly catching myself, I continued on home. The first hint of strangeness hit as . . . and I was sure it was my neighborhood . . . I noticed many streetlights were out, cracked or flickering odd colors. I could swear my door had gone from purple to a somewhat more reddish tone, but perhaps it was just a trick of the lights. "Damn kids."
   I woke up rather late the next day feeling strangely out of sorts . . . too much whiskey and chocolate I guess. Oh well, best get on with my morning shift or Nova would rip me a new one. Deciding to give my new gear a trial run, I slipped them on in place of my usual stuff. My mind must be going, I don't remember them being this color. Lights, alcohol, who knows? I radioed in to report, but no such luck. My BADGE Comm unit was on the fritz. Out the door I went anyway.
   Something strange is happening. I can't seem to stop myself. Yes, I've been catching thugs and foiling crime all morning . . . b u t . . . I've been stealing from my captives. I dutifully turn them over to the cops who don't seem too sure of me for some reason, but I stash their ill gotten gains for later retrieval. Still no contact with BADGE.
   What is wrong with me? I just STOLE the lunch money of a little girl after rescueing her kitten from a tree. I need help, so I head to the nearest BADGE facility. I stand there with open mouth and unseeing eyes stunned to my very core. Nothing's there but a deep, blackened bomb crater. What could . . . How could . . . Who could . . . when? My mind spins to a stuttering stop.
   I spend countless hours wandering aimlessly and ignoring everything about me. No idea if anyone approached me for help or just sidled away from this shambling wreck of a hero. Finally, a glimmer in the darkness of my mind. The last time anything felt "normal" was at Marvelous' house. It's a starting point at least, so I head that way.
   Arriving there, I notice strange color shifts and spacial warps with my Nth Dimensional Senses. Knocking loudly, I hear a gravely voice shout "Coming!" After a noticable pause, I hear multiple locks being opened from within. Opening the door is a haggard looking old woman with wild hair, bloodshot eyes and a cigarette dangling from her lip. "Madame Marvelous?" I stammer. "NO! It's Mz Malevo-l-e-n-t" as her eyes widen. "Thief! How did you get my leggings?" as she plunges a tactical knife deep into my guts and twists.
   Jerking awake, I fall to my bedroom floor. The tastes of chocolate, alcohol and a hint of vomit flood my senses. "Damn Halloween, NEVER again."