Free Her Hero by Helen McNeil Page A

distinct feature, that would make her unusual. How she envied Madonna and the gap in her teeth, what she would give for Tyler Swift’s cat like eyes or Meryl Streep’s nose. Anything distinctive, exceptional or unusual. Better yet she could easily settle for a power like Mystique from X-Men but failing that she decided to tackle a much easier individuality.
                  Pivoting, Stacy surveyed her room and took in the white washed walls and pine furnishings. The half empty boxes that she had failed to empty in thee months. Usually Stacy saw no point in emptying them. What was the point she thought, she usually moved on every six months.
                  Not this time. Grabbing her keys and purse she ran down to the bazar on the corner and started to fill a basket with Indian throws, Chinese vases, beads that hung from doors and anything else she could get her hands on. Stacy was resolved, she told herself as she stuffed a picture frame onto the pile. She couldn’t move again and not just because she couldn’t afford to. Stacy was on her last point of call. The agency had told her this was it, the last placement. It was Harper and Son or bust.
                  To be fair she couldn’t blame them. It was after all, the twelfth placement she had been given and she had only survived that long due to her ability to bullshit.
                  First placement obviously just didn’t work out. Second, totally unreasonable and unfounded dismissal. Third, unclear management and general over expectation. After that she had to get a little creative. So far she had been sexually harassed, had an unhealthy work environment, feared for her life after co-worker threats and the list went on and sadly became more outlandish as the numbers accumulated. She should have kept it simple she thought as she paid for her basket of tat and returned to her hovel.
                  She ate the remainder of her lunch with a cup of tea and X-Men playing on her laptop and the bags of tat sat in a half empty box. She would make up her room, just not tonight, but definitely tomorrow she said to herself as she finished her dinner with a dark chocolate bounty.

Chapter 2
    “Tracy I need you to go across the road and buy some more staples, some idiot has under ordered for the stock room.” The old battle axe barely stopped at her desk as she threw the door open to the lady’s toilets and wafted Stacy with the familiar odors.
                  Waiting for the door to swing closed she brought up her youtube page and closed down The Justice League.
                  “I need them NOW Tracy!” Stacy spun round placing her body infront of the screen, “Big meeting with the boss and I’ll blame you if I have to give the report paper by paper.”
                  Although she dripped with sarcasm Stacy knew she was deadly serious. Stacy had learned on her first day that Mr Harper was ruthless. Actually the term she had heard most when staff referred to the CEO was ‘Evil’. Among other descriptions, such as soulless, a machine and her favorite, Harper and Spawn. Despite Stacy’s sympathy for the old battle axe, she had never and was never likely to meet the notorious ‘Son’ in Harper and Son and so waved off the frantic supervisor, who was jigging with her legs crossed at the bathroom door. As Stacy reached the lift, she could hear her supervisor calling about a 4pm conference but all Stacy could think about was the coffee shop, right next to the newsagents.
                  The aromas hit her and Stacy practically sprinted across the road. Weaving through the heavy traffic she ignored the horns and entered the coffee heaven determined to resist the pastries this time.
                  “Hey, that bad?” Sadly in less than three months at Harper and Son Stacy had become closer to Sheila, the coffee server, than anyone else in the last