Free Lady Superior by Alex Ziebart

Trademarks are solid-fucking-gold in this business, because all the good names are taken already. A trademark might as well last forever. That’s why new indie comics usually have characters with terrible names, or they drop the hero thing and just give them a real name. Joe Blow instead of Super Badass. But nobody wants superhero comics for Joe Blow. They want Super Badass. That’s just what the genre is, you know?”
    Kristen nodded. “So I have to start wearing a loincloth so this old guy can buy his kids a house?”
    Bernice chewed on her lip. Her gaze traveled up and down Kristen’s body with exaggerated infatuation. “Is the loincloth out of the question?”
    “Do you really want to start trouble with the lady who can rip a car apart?”
    Bernice coughed a laugh. “Nah, guess not. Anyway, there’s gotta be something in all of his awful books that sounds good. Nothing matters but the name. Bad costume? We can change it. Bad story? Doesn’t matter. You pick what you want and we ask him to give us the name.”
    “You think he’ll just hand it over? If he’s been doing this for years…”
    “He’s been doing this for years, and he’s broke as a joke. We’ll give him a cut.” Bernice swiveled in her chair to face Kristen fully. “Look, they’ve been riding this local-girl thing the whole time. Maiden Milwaukee, all of that. You can actually do what this guy’s been trying to do. Everybody in town will line up to buy your comic just because it’s about you. And if it’s good, people from every town will want it. We keep running with the local-girl thing. We find a decent writer here in town. Artists, too. They’ll eat it up.”
    Suddenly drawn to them, Kristen’s gaze drifted to the scantily clad super-women on Bernice’s bulletin board. Women with deep cleavage, leggy in their miniskirts, come-hither eyes beckoning the viewer into the bedroom. All had immaculate hair and battle damage only in places where a ripped costume would reveal more supple skin. Kristen tried to recall an old conversation with Bernice.
    When a little girl comes into my shop and can find something they can identify with, I love that. But when I'm by myself and want to chill out, all I want is badass chicks in lingerie.
    Was that what it was all about? Kristen wondered. While she didn’t wear lingerie, form-fitting clothes on her figure was close enough. It had certainly gotten Joel’s attention. And Jane’s boss—whoever he was—had decided to release footage from Temple, placing her right in front of everyone’s eyes. Was she their mascot because she was fighting for the right thing, or because she had the right appeal?
    What had she actually done? She’d made a few token appearances and handled situations the authorities could have managed without her. Her alter ego had garnered overnight fame for nothing. Now, Bernice was talking merchandising and monetizing. Was it possible to be an instant sell-out? Merchandising didn’t seem heroic. Then again, she’d never read a comic where the hero’s likeness was being stolen in a shady licensing scheme. Stolen-likeness plots were usually more sinister.
    Kristen could swear she felt a physical click in her mind.
    They’re changelings, Kris. Not werewolves. Their blood can assimilate the blood of other living things. When that happens, they can take the form of anything they’ve assimilated.
    She put a hand to her stomach.
    Bernice cocked her head, eyes narrow. “If you’re going to throw up, don’t aim for the merchandise, okay?”
    Kristen ran from the office, her words a jumble as she tried to get them all out at once. “Gotta make a phone call, will be back later, everything’s fine, don’t worry, bye!”
    The moment Kristen burst through the Employees Only door into the store proper, she forced herself to walk. She felt the strength in her gut, and with her sudden tension, she couldn’t find the speed setting between walk and I belong on a highway . Jack opened