Charlie watched from afar — every single night.
She didn't care about the 'universal connections’ or 'ontological strings of fate' people philosophised about in the late hours of Tarlog's Hall. She was never sure why big things like that didn't interest her; they just didn't. She didn't care though, not much.
​
Why waste time on something that didn’t matter to her?
​
She had nothing to prove to anyone. Not anymore.
​
Instead, she just sat — stupefied in awe, and unable to keep her heart beats in check.
Wendy Harris — THE Wendy Harris of MISFITS was here! And she was in Tarlog Hall every night! She strummed away on her guitar, she stood on stage, she blasted a range of rock from psychadelic to heavy with such willpower it melted the damned ice sculptures exhibition by Eira.
The singular exigent sight of her was sweltering in Charlie's gaze. And she was so young! Maybe even younger than Charlie. She couldn't tell. The mere thought of talking or even becoming friends with her riled Charlie up with anxiety. So she just stood and watched from afar, every night.
As she listened to all the music that came forth, Charlie remembered all her mornings before a big public appearance as Razzmatazz. How she'd flick on the MISFITS Cover Collection album and listen to the hand-picked songs Wendy Harris had decided to perform during her 2020 Thunder-House Tour. Roadrunner would blast as she left her parent's house and Rock You Like a Hurricane prepared her for on-location shoots.​
​
Then Charlie remembered the music she'd hit when walking down the halls at school. The hardcore sounds of her Fun, Fun Fun cover would soothe her anxieties. Cities in Dust would bring her back to herself whenever she had a terrible run-in with Jacob in their first year.
​
Charlie remembered when she broke up with Taysh —
—and just in that moment, she heard Wendy Harris belting on stage.
​
The lyrics hit Charlie like a Houston's hyper-powered sleigh.
​
'You took my heart, and you took my pride away
I hate myself for loving you.
Can't break free from the the things that you do
I wanna walk but I run back to you
That's why I hate myself for loving you.'
​
The passion.
The anger.
The power!
​
Wendy's performance made Charlie remember that the weight of the world and of all the expectations on her were as light as vapour. Charlie was in control, Charlie was the one who could rise to the top! She could turn her anger, her frustration, her loss and raw emotion into strength.
​
In these moments, Charlie felt like she could do anything again. She missed that feeling.
​
—
Charlie watched from afar — every single night.
One night she was noticed. Not by Wendy, but by someone else.
On an evening where Wendy was set to perform after the 'Fantastical Folk Serenade: Serena', an older woman of incredible fashion approached her.
​
'Oh darling, I can just tell you're a special one, aren't you?'
​
'Sorry, what?' Charlie responded, reeling a bit from the abrupt sight of this glammed up, sci-fi-looking woman-of-means.
​
'No, don't say anything — you don't need to. Lady Cliff knows it all with just a whiff of your aura. You're special.'
​
'Is that — are you insulting me?'
​
'Not in even the slightest my sweet — look at you! The bright hair, the enchantingly gorgeous pose! Your longing gaze and discontent spirit. The clash of such stunning emotions, it can only mean one thing! You're a celebrity, aren't you?'
​
Charlie raised her eyebrows and avoided eye contact with the lady.
'I knew it. I was right! It doesn't take Val Falkafeldr's eyes to see this — perhaps I should venture into the fortune-telling industry.' The Lady Cliff let out a hearty yet mannered laugh, a true party-goer’s expression of self-satisfied joy.
​
Charlie sighed and pulled the lady aside. 'Look, not anymore. Don't bring that up, I'm just here to let some steam off before I go back.'
​
'What on ancient Earth do you mean, darling? You can't mean to let me believe you're seriously stifling such talents on purpose?'
​
'I'm not stifling anything. It. . . It wasn't my choice alright?'
​
'So it's a challenge then, a minor setback I assure you.' The lady winked with sublime charm. 'My name is Lady Cliff dear — and I can see it in you. The spark. You're set to be in the eyes of many, that's your special little privilege!' The lady pulled out a cosmic-coloured business card. In gold and glittery font it simply said 'CLIFF'. 'I've always been on the look out for talent such as yours, and if you'd be so kind as to indulge me. . .'
​
There it was again. Those great expectations that made Charlie shudder.
​
The Lady Cliff in front of her was beautiful. She didn't shy away from her age. She obviously spent a lot of time on her appearance from her clothes to her make-up, hair, diet and hygiene. Charlie could tell just by looking at her. She'd seen quite a few people like that in McCavity's talent agency.
​
So many of them were young and so many of them would lose their spark. It seemed that Lady Cliff was exempt from that. Had she captured her spark in a small little container? Like a homunculus in a flask?
​
She’d heard stories of it in the Supers business. Losing the thing that made you special. As if one day a hole appeared in your side, and all the good things and talent just slowly leaked out of you. Like becoming colourless.
​
The Colourless Charlie O'Connor, Charlie thought to herself.
​
Even in this magical world of make-believe, this ice-cold plane of Christmas Incarnate, she couldn't escape it.
​
'Dear? Are you alright?'
​
Charlie came back to, looking at Lady Cliff with her spark untouched.
'I'm fine.' She said abruptly. 'No thank-you, I already had an agent. If you don't mind, I'm going to get going.' She grabbed her bag and left, just as Wendy Harris was meant to take the stage.
​
---
​
Charlie watched from afar — every single night.
​
She looked out at the vast sky of this world that didn't really exist. It was going to be the night that she finally tried it. Tonight — she wanted to test it.
​
Back home, her powers had become fractured. She'd sustained a massive injury soaring the skies of an erased future. Ever since the breakpoint, ever since she came back and lost everything, her power was merely sparks that fizzled to fade. They were like wisps crackling into reality and never finding purchase in the shifting winds. Weak, frail little things.
​
Charlie hadn't tested it here in this realm of wishes and dreams. But she wanted to try.
​
Seeing Wendy and Lady Cliff — the girl who had just found her spark and the woman who never let hers go — she visualised her emotions. Charlie extended her palm and let loose the electricity that was sparkling across it.
​
Her body tensed and hardened in the snow. It started small — fizzled and faded.
​
She tried again.
Charlie yelled out to the snowscape and imagined her spark. She thought of Wendy, she thought of Cliff — she thought of Taysh.
Lightning shot across the sky. It bent and lashed out among the snowing layers of clouds that rose and rose into the dark night sky.
​
Charlie pulled in all her lightning, forming it into a bright blue ball of raging fury and let it loose into the vast, empty air. It exploded and crackled. The thunderclap echoing out among the Wastes and towards the Castle Keep.
​
She launched herself into a run. Sprinting against the cold snow, and jumped up. She started to fly — soaring in a spear-headed dive towards the dark-void of sky above. She put all her strength into her speed. Electric sparks turning into thunderbolts behind her.
​
​She thought of Jacob. She thought of Rin. She thought of Bobby.
​
She crashed down into the wastes with a bang, electricity pulsing in an electro-magnetic pulse around her as she landed. The sheer force of her landing on the ground sending waves of wind and sound against the candy-cane rooted trees and rustling mint-leaves.
​
Out here, she didn't need to be anything. She didn't need to be herself. She could be anything she needed. She could be the fury of a lightning strike. Uncaring, unflinching, unwavering. Brief and bright. Everlasting in what it left behind.
​
She felt the cold of the snow melt beneath her, as the heat of all her power pulsed heat-waves around her body. It burnt away everything like Quickfire's heatwaves.
​
​She thought Amelia, of Sun and Qi Fang.
​
She let out a deep, cathartic sigh. Even if it was just while she was in this magical realm, she enjoyed feeling her powers again.
​​
She let herself stand there, and take in everything as lightning crackled around her.
​
She let herself breathe — and admit that she wanted something more.
​
Something that didn't crumble, didn't break — no matter what she did.
​
---
​
Wendy watched from afar — every single night.
​
Whenever she was prepping her set and the nerves kicked in, she couldn't help but look out to the crowd. Her first big performance was at the School Dance for god's sake! Now she was deciding to perform in front of a room of complete strangers from different dimensions and timelines?
The fuck was that about?
​
There was some bald guy in a wheelchair, a blue man, a large sentient mushroom, dozens of tiny lizards, a giant (friendly?) looking robot and what looked to be a whole Viking family. Just to name a few.
​
But when she looked out each night, good night or bad — there would always be someone. Someone sparkling. Someone with the most beautiful eyes and hair and smile she'd ever seen in her life.
​
They were there nearly every single night.
​
For Wendy, this was something new. Someone she had no idea about was dedicated enough to come and listen to her music?
​
No. That's not right, it must have been some mistake.
​
Obviously she just worked here, or something. Or maybe she hated the music and just came here to write mean reviews about it and was building up enough hate-material to destroy her career from the roots.
​
That must be it! The young guitarist thought.
​
But then, she'd remember just how happy the girl looked whenever the music started. After that, she would only catch glimpses. She could never make eye contact when the music started, she wouldn't dare with anyone, especially not her.
​
Then one day, something strange happened.
​
An older lady in the most strikingly beautiful outfit came up to her. (A scout? was Wendy's first thought. My first proper real non-demonic scout!?)
​
The older lady was lovely. She showered the young girl with earnest words and charm that melted even Wendy's suspicions away. She described how marvelous Wendy's music and spirit was and that once she got more of her work out there, she'd be as famous as the classics — which followed a bunch of band names she had never heard of.
​
But she had a request. The Lady had encountered a woman recently who was a fan. She sensed something troubled within the girl, and wanted to reach out and lend a helping hand — as a kindred spirit. All she had was the girl's name, and wondered if Wendy would be so kind as to provide a celebrity signature of sorts ('Not for resale, don't worry!’ the lady had said with a laugh.)
​
Wendy, shocked and stunned on so many fronts — happily obliged. Her first question being, 'How do I do that, exactly?’
​
The lady guided her towards a message she thought would be good. But after a few back-and-forths, Wendy knew exactly how she wanted to start it.
​
With a big black pen on a poster for the Dawning Festival coming up, Wendy wrote:
​
'To my first fan — thank you for inspiring me to rock harder.
Yours truly, a fellow MISFIT’
W.H'