Liberty Legion Headquarters Rec Room
The Statue of Liberty
New York City
"Well Creep, you didn't make the list again this year."
In a rare moment of downtime, The Whippet thumbed through the latest People magazine. Slender and sleek, with the cowl of his navy blue skin-tight speedsuit pulled back, he let out a long sigh like he was settling in to do homework.
"The Gun is number thirty-four. Matron of Honor is ten. I made number five. The Liberty Legion is representing but I still can't believe they picked that alien Amrodan for number one. I mean, nobody even knows if it's male or female! It can't even say!"
Finding the page with the blue-skinned Amrodan, he leaned forward on the rec room couch to show it to The Crimson Creep, who was dripping steadily into a bucket on the floor.
"Dude, can you see?"
The Creep gave a thumbs-up with one of its T-Rex-like arms. Since it had no eyes, the question was a fair one. The Creep was a floating bloody meatloaf the size of a Shetland Sheepdog, with a gaping toothless mouth running the full width of its body. Even superheroes found it hard to figure out.
"So what do you think?" asked The Whippet.
The Creep signed with a salute, bringing a hand downward from the top of its body.
Whippet leaned back, looking closely at the photo. "A dude, huh? Maybe. Maybe those things aren't boobs but they're just so...weird." He slapped the magazine into his lap. "You thirsty, bud?"
The Creep nodded, and there was a flash of blue light. When it subsided, The Whippet was already back from the downstairs kitchen, popping open a drink can, which immediately spewed its contents on the couch.
"Mothersonofa!" he said. There was another flash and he popped back with another can and some paper towels. "I always forget to take it easy with the sodas. Major Expansion's going to be pissed off that I got it on the couch again."
The Creep watched patiently as The Whippet cleaned up the spill. When he finished, he sat again with a can in his hand, and used his super speed to gently tap the can a hundred times with a merry tink-ta-tink ta-tink. He grabbed the drink tab, winced, and pulled. The soda popped open with no mess. He handed it to The Creep.
"Whew! Here you go, my man."
The Creep accepted the drink and took a sip. It then brought the drink down very, very slowly. Then it stopped moving altogether, except for the steady drip, drip, drip, into its bucket.
The Whippet leaned toward his friend and peered uneasily. "You ok, Creep?"
Floating but perfectly still, The Creep was indiscernible. Whippet scowled and reached for the Liberty Legion communicator on his wrist, but The Creep grabbed his hand before he could activate it.
"What the...?"
The Crimson Creep released The Whippet's wrist, held one finger to its lips, dropped into the bucket with a splash, and disappeared.
"Yeck. Not weird at all," said The Whippet as he wiped away the gruesome red residue on his wrist. He moaned a little when he saw the bloodied carpet around the bucket. Sighing, he grabbed the rest of the paper towels and lifted the bucket. There was a disc-shaped bloodstain on the carpet. "Oh my god. So gross," he whispered as he set to work on the mess.
Two minutes later, after having made superhero-worthy progress on the stain, The Whippet watched in horror as The Crimson Creep emerged from the very same spot, leaving a newer, bloodier mess.
"Creep, just because you and your nasty plasm can pass through anything doesn't mean you should. I'm not cleaning up after you again. There's really no reason to use the bucket if you're going to do that. This is the third time today and I - wait, are you wearing a Dolphin Talker?"
Dolphin Talkers are advanced electronic technology that allow dolphin brainwaves to be converted to English, then projected through a compact speaker system that closely mimics the human voice. The Liberty Legion uses them extensively to communicate with their dolphin ally King Ickyticktick-Ah-Ah and his dolphin subjects. The Creep was wearing one where a left eye would normally be on anyone else.
"Yes. We need to talk," The Crimson Creep said in the unisex voice generated by the device.
The Whippet was dumbfounded. "Um, ok, but why in the five years and many, many, many missions we've worked together have you never shared the juicy and pretty frickin' important little tidbit that you can actually communicate using something other than sign language?!" He stood, almost in a fighting stance.
The Creep held up its hands. "Please, Brian. I'm sorry to have upset you. I really just didn't have anything I felt comfortable saying until now."
"Ok shoot, but be aware that I am very weirded out right now."
"I've been in love with you for a very long time."
Silence, except for the dripping. The Whippet didn't move, didn't blink, didn't breathe.
"I realize this is a shock. I don't expect you to say anything yet."
The Whippet nodded just a fraction, but was otherwise motionless.
"I was human once. There was an accident during a séance. Here I am."
The Whippet nodded again and relaxed slightly. "Ok, that answers a couple of questions. We'd all wondered about that. Some of us placed bets. I was sure it was an accident at a meatpacking plant. Guess I'm out fifty bucks."
The Creep hovered closer, and was about to place a hand on Whippet's chest, but he flinched at the last moment. The Creep stopped and withdrew its hand.
"Brian, I know what I am. I know how I look. I know the effect I have on people." It turned and floated toward the window looking out at Ellis Island. "I save a busload of kindergarteners from certain doom, most of them end up with PTSD and a lifetime of nightmares. I take an assassin's bullet for the President of the United States of America, he dry retches giving me my commendation on live TV. I stop Spaceship Earth from crushing thousands of people at EPCOT and I get a plaque in the mail. I get it. I'm gross. Disgusting. Horrifying. Repulsive."
The way The Creep hovered at the window, The Whippet could clearly imagine that if it had eyes, they'd be gazing far out to the horizon of the Atlantic. They would probably be moist. Supermoist.
"When you handed me that drink - when you thought about me - you showed me, again, as you have thousands of times before, what a wonderful person you are. You're thoughtful, considerate, and the most heroic hero I've ever known. I've spent all this time with you just to be near you, to be around you. I would've even taken sidekick status if I thought that'd help me become closer to you."
The Creep tilted slightly toward the floor, as if lowering its gaze in love-drenched melancholy.
"But I dared not hope for more. A grotesque like me has no right to hope to win the heart of anyone, much less someone as special as you. I've just gotten to the point where I can't keep silent about it anymore. I can't hide my feelings for you any longer, regardless of how repellant I may be.
Looking at the floor, The Whippet worried a bit of carpet with his foot. "It's not that. I love you like a brother. I'm just - I'm just..." He looked away. "I'm just not into dudes."
The Creep turned. "My real name is Molly Claire Williams."
"That's not a dude's name."
"I'm not a dude."
"But we all..."
"You all made assumptions. I chose not to correct you. Call it maintaining a secret identity."
Silence. Dripping.
He took her bloody hand in his.
"Wanna go see a movie?"
