Into the Vanessaverse

An important aspect of Vanessa’s role as a cosmic witch is investigating strange phenomenon that were not related to her antics. Some of it was altruism, being the sort of witch that causes mischief but refuses to outright harm anyone; the other half was so she didn’t get blamed for any of said phenomenon.

On such a day, her inspection had led her and Agent to a nondescript suburban community, of all places. The town of Stepford, located in the heartland of America. From the advertisements, it looked like a typical slice of the American Dream from the fifties-or, to Agent’s more cynical eye, a picture of a satirical take on the Dream, before it would swiftly be caught in a storm of nuclear fire. Vanessa did not ask for elaboration on this part.

As of yet, the town had not been destroyed; in fact, it was positively thriving. The houses were pristine, the lawns well-kept. There were people walking on the sidewalks, giving neighborly waves as the duo passed through to their destination. It all looked so amazingly, breathtakingly normal.

“Seeing anything weird?” Vanessa asked Agent, as she looked around.

“Apart from the fact that people are waving at me with all five fingers?” Agent asked. “Not especially. It all seems so typical.”

“Yes, that’s what bothers me,” Vanessa said. She rubbed her head as she walked. “And I can’t get a visual around here. Some sort of headache, maybe. Or it could be something interfering with my abilities.”

“We don’t have to solve it in one day,” Agent said, reassuring the witch. “Let’s pace ourselves, feel out the community. Maybe use the diplomatic approach.”

Vanessa gave a small smile, and a knowing finger-wag. “Ah, going in for the handshake with one hand and the dagger with the other,” she said.

Agent balked. “N-no, not like that at all–“

“Here it is,” Vanessa interrupted, stopping in front of one of the houses. Agent nearly bumped into the witch in the process.

The house was exactly like all the others, in both paint color and design. A two bedroom, two bath home with a standard kitchen, living room, and even a basement. All for a comparatively low price for the property market values. That, Agent realized in retrospect, was the first key point where something was very wrong.

They walked inside, Agent fumbling with the key all the while. They took stock in the house, how it was already furnished and ready to live in from the first word. All part of the arrangement, they knew. The best way to investigate Stepford would have been to live in Stepford itself. It was very easy to do, even. Between the low property costs, the ease of moving, and the many benefits to moving into the community, they were practically begging for future tenants to arrive.

“Nothing too out of the ordinary so far,” Vanessa said, musing on the sights. “Apart from the general friendliness…It seems a tad unnatural, to be honest. Most mortals I know are less uptight.”

“Vanessa, you don’t know many mortals,” Agent remarked. “And the ones you do are the exception rather than the rule.”

Their discussion was interrupted when there was a knock on the door. The two looked to it in curiosity. A visitor, so soon? They had just moved in.

“I got it,” Agent said, as he moved to answer, pulling the door open to see their new guest. On the other side was a man, wearing a sweater-vest, a neatly-trimmed hairstyle, and a wide smile.

“Why, hello, neighbor!” he greeted. “Gosh, it is always a pleasure to see new faces in Stepford. Welcome to the community!”

“Ah, thanks,” Agent said, giving a nervous smile of his own. Something about the man’s overwhelming positivity was somewhat oppressive to him. That was likely his own introversion, however. “I’m Agent, and this is Vanessa behind me.”

“And my name is David,” David said, giving a firm handshake to Agent; he did not address or even look towards Vanessa. “I’m what you might call the head of the HOA around Stepford. We’re always looking for new members, so if you’ll be here long-term, and most people are, we’d love to have you on the board.”

“That’s great,” Agent said, noncommittally. That handshake…It was the kind that made it clear who was in charge around there. He felt increasingly uncomfortable with the attention. On the other side of the spectrum, Vanessa was annoyed at the lack of interaction. Here she was, a beautiful woman with curves for days and an alluring aura that would make most guys and girls swoon over her, and she was being passed over like it was nothing?

“Anyway, I won’t take up much of your time,” David said. “Mostly I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, is all.” He snapped his fingers briefly, a thought striking him. “Oh yes! Do you play golf?”

“Golf?” Agent asked. His thoughts raced, recalling the time spent around the miniature windmills and questionable water hazard contents he had been through in his youth. “Well, in a manner of speaking…”

“Great!” David said. “Why not you come by to the course tomorrow and we’ll play a few holes? Stepford has one of the best courses in the country, you know.”

Agent, unsure of what else to say, simply nodded. This satisfied David plenty, who clasped his hands together with glee. “Swell!” he declared. “Then we’ll meet up at eleven for a round! I look forward to it, Agent.”

David gave a wave and a smile, and he was off, strolling out of the yard and back onto the sidewalk. The whole interaction went so quickly and so normally, Agent was somewhat dizzy from how mundane the whole scene was.

Vanessa, however, was miffed. “Can you believe that guy?” she asked. “He didn’t even acknowledge me!”

“Yeah, that was pretty weird…” Agent said. What was up with that? Further, he hadn’t actually seen any women outside either; just the men doing the yardwork, or partaking in a stroll. Were they all inside?

“Well, whatever,” Vanessa said. She wiped her forehead briefly, taking the time to press her knuckles to her skull to test the temperature. “At least you’ve got an ‘in’ already. Maybe you can pry for some more info, sweetie.”

Agent nodded idly. Then he paused, performing a double-take towards his companion. “Sweetie?” he asked. That was…definitely not her trademark catchphrase of endearment. “Are you okay, Vanessa?”

“Yes, darling,” Vanessa said dismissively; ah, there it was. “Just…I don’t know. Ever since we arrived I’ve been feeling a bit…off.”

“Under the weather?” Agent suggested. Vanessa shrugged.

“Maybe,” she said. “I’ll see how I feel in the morning, maybe.”

…

Unfortunately, Vanessa’s health did not evidently improve through a good night’s sleep; if anything, she felt more fatigued, remaining on the mattress and under the sheets, even with Agent getting up himself.

“Food poisoning, perhaps?” Agent suggested. He, too, felt a tad tired, if only because Vanessa struggled to remain still during their rest. A pity there was only one bed in the house, likely designed for couples. The couch wasn’t comfortable enough overnight.

“Doubt it,” Vanessa said, her voice wavering slightly. “I usually can digest anything without issue. This…” She stared up at the ceiling, thinking long and hard. “This is something closer to the head.”

Agent stood nearby, visibly thinking. It wasn’t until Vanessa slowly waved him off that he resumed his attention.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “If I can’t hunt down information on my end, you have to do it. And you have an in.”

“What, the golf invite?” Agent asked. Yes, David would be waiting for his newest golf buddy, he recalled. The only problem was that this would have been professional “big boy” golf, something he hardly had experience with.

“He might not even care about your inexperience,” Vanessa reminded Agent. “If anything, he might have a looser tongue around someone he’d be teaching. Hardly viewing you as a credible threat.”

“Gee, thanks,” Agent sniped back. Still, she made valid points across the board; such was the art of manipulation, courtesy of the witch that invented it. “Alright, I’ll be back later with some extra information then.”

And he was off out the doors, after dressing well for the occasion. His best sports polo, this time actually worn for sports. Red, like all of his shirts and his most likely Star Trek uniform. There was scarcely a stain on it. He really was a novice, he thought.

As he walked on the sidewalk, he took note of his surroundings, and the little quirks of the neighborhood. All the houses looked identical, save for the occasional change of color scheme. All the lawns were pristine and well-trimmed, with not a single shrub possessing a single blemish. Even the cars looked nice, either original models or replicas of the classic cars of the nineteen-fifties. Thunderbirds! Cadilac! There were certainly those with old money in the community, yet all the men he was seeing outside were scarcely older than thirty-five.

That was another thing, he noted. Only men were outside. Not one of their wives were enjoying the sunshine with their husbands. With the added light, Agent could see through some of the windows he passed by, and there were clearly women within. They were, however, hard at work. Cooking, dusting, vacuuming, sweeping, or otherwise catering to their spouses. Further, each one seemed to wear the same outfit. A sundress, gracious heels, an apron on their front, and a retro-style haircut, the kind he could recall seeing on older sitcoms-sans-colors.

It was unnerving, if he was honest.

The golf course was in sight, a modest affair. He was half expecting a full country club, and was slightly disappointed not to have been given clearance to perform his favorite Caddyshack bits and have them land. David was waiting, friendly as ever, giving a wave to the approaching Agent.

“Right on time!” David greeted. “Ah, but no golf clubs? I guess they’re still in with the boxes, then.”

“Well, actually…” Agent was about to explain. Then he stopped; no sense in cutting off a potential thread. It didn’t matter, anyway. David continued to possess his usual smile.

“No problem!” he said. “You’re more than able to borrow some of mine today. Call it a neighborly welcome gift!”

“Oh, thank you,” Agent blinked in surprise. One problem solved, then. Although he was still rather baffled by David in general. Nothing about his appearance or temperament betrayed any sense of antagonism…which just served to concern Agent deeper. It was always the helpful ones that turned out to be the most deceitful, after all.

David led the way to the first hole, not far from where they first stood. He hauled the golf caddy without any effort, always with the damned smile on his face. It never budged, not once, not even under the strain. The commitment was somewhat admirable, Agent noted.

He dropped a ball onto the tee, then looked through his clubs to determine the best tool for the job. Eventually he settled for the most straightforward one of the lot, gripping it firmly by the handle. He briefly mimed a swing, getting the pattern down, before he acted for real, pulling his arms back and then rapidly forward. There was a hollow THWACK as the ball soared across the green, David cupping his eyes with his hand to see where it was going through the sun’s glare. Eventually he gave a satisfied nod.

“Nice, I think that’s within fifty feet,” he said. “A new personal best, but I’d love to get a hole in one sometime.” He stepped back, handing Agent the same club he just used, simultaneously dropping a different-colored ball on the tee. “I recommend this one for the first hole. Should be pretty easy.”

“Alright,” Agent said, carefully taking the handle from David. He held the weight of the metal stick, taking measured swings himself to get a feel for it. He eyed the ball, visualized the path it would take. He saw the flag across the way, how it fluttered just above the destination. He closed his eyes, and he swung.

There was no THWACK noise; rather, he suddenly opened his eyes to see David’s club flying through the air itself, the grip he held having loosened enough during the swing. It clattered to the ground, resting amongst the grass.

He looked back to David, sheepishly. “Lost my grip,” he said.

David looked to Agent briefly, and gave a chuckle. “I get it,” he said. “First day jitters on the new course. We’ll play properly another day, but if you want, we can just walk and talk.”

“Fair enough,” Agent said. By then he had grabbed the club from the ground, then handed it back to David as though it were scalding hot. David walked with it, and Agent behind him, towards the golf ball’s landing spot.

“So tell me about yourself,” David said. Always with that smile. “You just moved in, but what brought you to Stepford in the first place?”

“I guess you could say a feeling of discovery,” Agent shrugged. Among other things, he noted internally. “Me and the missus, you know? Trying new things.” He tried a new tact. “What about you?”

“Oh, the whole neighborhood appealed to me,” David said. “Putting up roots here, such a peaceful place…” He chuckled idly. “Plus it keeps my own missus where she belongs.”

Agent didn’t respond right away, in part because his head turned, ever-slowly, towards the seemingly oblivious David. The smile hadn’t dropped; he meant what he said, evidently.

“What do you mean?” Agent asked, trying to keep the ice in his voice at a warmer temperature.

“Oh, Stepford was meant to be the ideal community,” David explained. “The men all hard at work, and the women doing their work at home. You know, the cooking, the cleaning, the usual. Stuff they should always be doing.”

It was fortunate that David took back the club, Agent noted, lest he find himself swinging it. Not to mention, with how red his shirt was, no one would notice the blood he would inevitably spill. But he didn’t, and he wouldn’t. Every part of him screamed to act, to persuade David of how utterly wrong his beliefs were via the use of a well-applied motion. Yet the rational half of him registered how essential David was to uncovering the mysteries of Stepford. Only after he knew everything, and could put a stop to it, would he then have free access to deliver unto David what was his.

That would explain the lack of female activity, he considered. Supposedly they all took upon a more subservient role in each household in the community. Surely it wasn’t voluntary, however; at least, a part of him hoped it wasn’t. Learning that they weren’t dealing with a community, but a cult, would have certainly made his job harder.

Vanessa.

“Shoot,” Agent said, looking at his watch in mock surprise. “I had an appointment, I nearly forgot. Sorry to cut and run, David.”

“Not a problem, neighbor,” David waved off gently. “I know how those appointments can be. Health and safety first, and all that.”

“Right,” Agent agreed. “I’ll take a rain-check on the rounds.”

He dashed off, towards the house again. Vanessa was squarely on his mind now. The headaches started just as they arrived in the neighborhood limits, not to mention the odd quirks she had developed as well. Less frisky, more doting, to an extent. Coupled with David’s words, and, well…

He was nervous as to what awaited him within the front door.

…

The house was spotless, to say the least. Every surface was gleaming bright, freshly dusted and polished to a shine. The rug floors were equally untouched and unblemished-there was even the fresh scent of lilac. It was clear that Vanessa had taken no shortcuts in ensuring the house looked its best.

Agent was highly concerned now.

Vanessa eventually stepped into view, keeping a firm hand on the vacuum she was using. She looked up, giving a smile as she turned it off.

“Well, gosh, dear!” she said, with a lighter air about her. “You sure did finish early!”

The gothic witch looked neither gothic nor like a witch. Her hair has come undone from her usual gravity-defying ensemble, instead more collected as a single ponytail. Her flowing dress had shrunk, becoming a single-piece, a lighter purple color than the abyss black she so cherished. Most striking was the new apron over her front, tied around the back, and stylized for cooking and cleaning measures. She, and the house, were completely immaculate. Agent was terrified.

“What exactly happened?” he asked, alarmed.

“Well, golly, it was the darndest thing,” Vanessa said; she even gave a small spin in place, allowing her dress to follow her movements. “There I was, lying in bed, when I got the urge to clean the furniture. And once I started dusting, why, all my sickness went away!” She giggled. “I feel like I should have done this ages ago!”

“I’d…rather that didn’t happen,” Agent said. No question, this was the curse of Stepford. The name was certainly fitting, as he bitterly noted. But Vanessa was not immune to stepfordization, evidently. He wasn’t sure how deep this would go, or how utterly lost she would be. Would she be reduced to a mere background object, dutifully cleaning and cooking for who she would believe was her husband? It was too worrying to think about.

There was one prime suspect, and one alone. David. He knew far more than he let on, Agent realized. It was possible that he was the one responsible for the curse. Yet he couldn’t prove it. He couldn’t even begin to decipher how or why David could create such a sway over the female residents of the town.

His fists balled up silently, just thinking about his new nemesis. Then he sighed, his fists lightening up. It wouldn’t do to be angry in front of Vanessa, least of all while she was in a vulnerable state like this. He was torn. On the one hand, playing along with the delusion meant the potential to get in David’s good graces for some subterfuge. On the other hand, this felt like a violation on the sanctity-or whatever she possessed, anyway-of Vanessa’s personal psyche.

He eventually nodded, taking a difficult path. “It’s fine, thank you,” Agent nodded with a smile. “You’ve certainly worked hard today, honey.”

“Anything for my husband,” Vanessa giggled again, scarcely anything between the ears except that duty. “Oh! I should get dinner ready soon! Can’t let things get pushed off for too long.”

She walked into the kitchen, heels clicking across the floor as she marched like a toy soldier. Just seeing her in such a state, locked into subservience instead of her usual anarchistic personality…It was too disquieting to bear. But bear it he must, Agent noted.

It wouldn’t be long.

…

The next week passed without event. Each day Agent would wake up to a freshly-made breakfast by Vanessa’s hands, plus a newspaper folded to the funnies and the sudoku puzzle. He would scout the neighborhood carefully, while still pretending to put in actual work at an actual job that paid him. He would get lunch, again from his play-wife. David would invite him for more golf on an afternoon basis, where Agent would continue to suck at the sport. He would walk home, empty-handed and without any progress on the investigation, to be met with a warm cooked meal for dinner.

Every day that passed, Vanessa seemed more and more rigid. Her hair styled from a ponytail to a beehive. Her hands covered in rubber gloves, and her dress had hitched even further until it resembled a dress out of the Nifty Fifties. She didn’t speak much, without being addressed. Usually her statements revolved around being a good wife that never goes outside, ever. Her eyes looked like living plastic, scarcely any spark of life. All the while, she continued her chores without complaints.

On the plus side, David seemed to neither notice nor suspect anything amiss from the Eckswhy house. He seemed just as addlepated as the Stepford wives he evidently helped create, although in a different sense. Maybe he didn’t expect opposition. Maybe he really was just that friendly, which could have been worse.

On that Friday night, David even handed Agent a personalized card as they were about to leave the green for the day. Curious, Agent inspected it; it seemed to have clipart of a barbecue and other food on it.

“It’s an open house cookout!” David helpfully explained. “The wife’s been working hard in making sure us guys are well-fed. We’d love to have you over.”

“That’s very kind, thank you,” Agent nodded. An in! It was too easy, far too easy indeed, but nothing up until then made Agent suspicious about the intent. “And as for my own?”

“Oh, it’d be too much for her,” David dismissed with his smile. “Best if she stays home as she should.”

The arrogance of this guy.

Agent had left the house that Saturday afternoon, bidding Vanessa farewell as she continued to mop the floors, robotically moving now. All routine, all the time, yet still flesh and blood. If he thought the whole mess was disturbing before…

David’s home was very close to Agent’s, easily spotted by some balloons tied to the mailbox and the other guests milling about, chatting idly. Sports, cars, and other crap Agent had no interest in. From the bits he heard, it wasn’t anything worth noting. It was all vague terms, like “the home team” and “that new hot-rod”. None of it seemed like it could hold a conversation by itself, and yet it did. Agent had to stifle an eye-roll at the sheer banality of Stepford’s citizenry.

“Ah, you made it!” David called from the door. Agent turned; his host was waving him inside. He followed along accordingly.

“I’m tickled you could come, especially,” David explained. “As the new resident to the neighborhood, you know? Everyone deserves a good barbecue.”

“Especially on a Saturday,” Agent agreed idly. Meanwhile, he took a look around, noting every little nook and cranny. Bland furniture, albeit with a retro design, as though it came out of a sitcom of the time period. “Nice place you got here.”

“Isn’t it?” David beamed with pride. “A true slice of Americana, you know. And, between you and me…” He leaned in, a grin on his face as he whispered. “I picked up that dandy of a television set from the antique shop, pennies on the dollar.”

“Great,” Agent said, trying desperately not to fall asleep from the sheer overwhelming dullness of David’s home. The only identifying feature that made his home different than Agent’s was his own wife, who was still cleaning dishes by the kitchen sink. Like Vanessa, she too seemed to be under the sway of a Stepford spell, although based on her rigid movements and her inability to speak herself, it was for a far longer time. Agent even struggled to look directly at her; her presence was a blur, a non-entity in the household. Another fixture of the household. Another of David’s property.

He silently hoped that Vanessa would be spared the same fate of obscurity.

David snapped his fingers, an idea forming. “Hey!” he called with glee. “I don’t normally do this, but…What the heck? How about I gather some of the fellas, and we go check out my hobby room?”

Ah, a breakthrough! David seemed to be glancing at a closed door between the living room and kitchen-if the layouts were identical to his own home, Agent could wager it was the basement door. And it was so easy to hide secrets within the basement…

“Hey, I’d be glad to see that,” Agent agreed, smiling genuinely for once. David hadn’t dropped his yet, going on nine days then.

“Swell!” he declared. “Hey, Mike! Steve! Let’s all go to the lobby, right?”

Two other men in suits, evidently Mike and Steve, approached with equally vacuous smiles. Agent wasn’t sure which of the men was Mike and which was Steve, and he simply did not care. It wasn’t important; David was his focus. Everything would come to this.

With barely-restrained excitement, David turned the knob of the basement door, and let them forward. Agent took a few hesitant steps through, one step at a time, the creaking of wood audible and echoing through the underhouse. The darkness was oppressive at first, at least until David clicked a light switch, and the whole basement lit up.

Most prominent in the room was a miniature putting green of nine holes, and Agent could barely stifle an exasperated sigh. Golf, again! What was with this man and his fascination with hitting balls with a metal stick? For that matter, what did he do for work?

“Welcome to paradise!” David declared, earning a polite clap from the other men; Agent begrudgingly joined in. “A full-scale replica of Stepford’s own beautiful greenery. Really helps get my golf game on.”

Agent, of course, couldn’t care less. The noble sport of kings had no sway over his mind. Rather, he seemed taken by something unusual in the basement, by the corner. A futuristic machine, puttering along, making an infrequent chiming sound that echoed through both the room and his own head. Clearly, it was a machine that was far more important than its appearance would suggest. It was next to the water heater for some reason.

“What’s that thing?” Agent asked innocently.

David turned his head to see what his new chum was investigating. He blinked in confusion. Then he turned back, looking sheepish. “Not really sure why you’d be interested in that old thing,” he said. “That’s just the Stepfordevice.”

“Step…Ford…?” Agent asked in mock ignorance. Surely, he thought, it couldn’t be that obvious. Did David really not see value in such a machine?

“It’s nothing fancy,” David shrugged. “That’s just what makes Stepford what it is. The gentle suggestive pulses help our wives take on their natural states, regulated to the homes as they should be. Some minor hypnosis or brainwashing or some other wacky sci-fi shenanigans are involved, I think.” He seemed rather bored about it, as though it were a part of everyday life. To David, it very well might have been.

“Where’d you get it?” Agent asked, curious. That wasn’t part of the mission, but it’d be nice to know who the supplier was. Unfortunately, David wasn’t biting.

“Golly, I don’t even remember,” he said. “Just one of those things that shows up in your life, I guess. You know?”

“Yes,” said Agent. No, thought Agent.

David clasped his hands together, trying to drum up excitement again. “But hey, enough of that boring stuff! Who wants to check out the clubs?”

That brought about excitement from Mike and Steve, who flocked right to the caddy bag that held a prominent display in David’s man-cave. Agent followed behind, though not without keeping a firm glance at the machine. That was the missing link. If something were to take it out of commission…

David pulled out a rather thick nine-iron, happily gesturing it like the grand knights of fairy tales. “My pride and joy,” he declared. “The secret to all of my best games on the green. You’re looking at a bonafide carbon steel tip, curved at just the right angle to give the ball an ever-so-slight spin to best counteract wind resistance. Hit the ball just right, and it’ll sail right within a thirty-yard radius with ease.”

Curious, Agent reached out to inspect it himself. David took notice, and gave a laugh. “Ah, I got your interest again!” he said. “Go ahead, give it a shot! Once you swing this baby, you’ll never buy overseas again.”

Thus, the prized golf club found its way into Agent’s hands. It was certainly shiny, pristine, with only the slightest scuff marks from use. Yet it was at least a decade old, it looked like. Durable, if nothing else.

Well, Agent thought as he walked around the basement, slowly motioning like he was taking a shot on the course. I’ll swing it, all right.

“The trick is treating the ball like marriage,” David was explaining to his other friends. “A firm stare, a firm hand, a firm smack on the rear, and you can go the distance.”

Mike and Steve nodded along to their modern-day Socrates, who seemed to explain the basics of life. He was about to go further when there was a sharp clang of metal from the other side of the room, catching everyone’s attention.

Agent had indeed swung the club and connected with something, at last. That “something” being the Stepfordevice David has glossed over, which was then sporting a large smoking and sparking dent on the side. Agent pulled the club away, only to swing it again at a different angle, connecting with another clang. And then another. And then another.

David, for the first time since they had met, looked horrified. So did Mike and Steve, although they didn’t fully grasp the implications beyond watching their friend’s furniture get smashed in. Agent, meanwhile, didn’t look shocked. He didn’t look angry. He looked blank, almost serene as he struck metal again and again.

Finally, pulling the club back and positioning it like the sword of a Shinobi, he rammed the entire stick straight into the heart of the device, skewering it with a sharp crackle of electricity. The humming had long since stopped, but it was best to be thorough. He released the grip of the club, leaving the prized possession within the belly of the beast. He stood up straight, turning to drink in the horror of his host’s face. Then he shrugged.

“Lost my grip,” he said.

And he walked up the stairs, through the door, and out of the house. All the while he timed how long it would take for Stepford’ to go up in flames. Twenty minutes was his guess.

…

Fifteen minutes later, most of the houses were on fire, with the screams of the fearful men laced with the laughter of vengeful women that had since been released from their psychiatric prisons. It was true; the Stepford husbands were in charge for so long, without opposition, that any rebellion would have easily emerged victorious. And so it did, without effort.

Agent watched all of this from the outskirts, catching a good view of the carnage with a smile on his face the whole time. He calmly sipped a diet soda he filched from David’s residence. There was something richly satisfying about watching a man like him get his comeuppance, and all it took was significant property damage via irony. Done in by his favorite golf club.

Vanessa was next to him, although she seemed far less interested in Stepford’s demise as she did with her own personal project: removing her Americana dress, stomping on it repeatedly, and then unleashing all of her cosmic power to burn the ashes to somewhere below Hell. She was far angrier than he had ever seen her, he noted. Dryly, he also noted that she was so angry, that she neglected to conjure up new clothes to replace the ones she was incinerating.

“That conniving…chauvinist…PIG!” she shouted in her mania. “Making me into a housewife! The gall!”

“Yeah, it was a mess,” Agent agreed. “Although the hair wasn’t bad.”

“Not a word about this,” Vanessa said. She pulled herself away from her kindling to jab a finger in Agent’s face, her own contorted into sheer blinding rage. “Not ONE WORD about how I got taken in by that…that…”

“Relax, I’m cooking up a cover story,” Agent shrugged. “Something about how you bravely went undercover while I slipped beneath notice to put a spanner in the works as you ordered. How it was your heroic instructions that saved the imprisoned women of Stepford.”

Vanessa stopped stomping and raging, and merely sighed angrily. She sat down, immodest as ever, next to Agent. “Leave out the part about being heroic,” she requested. “They won’t let me keep that villain union card if I don’t keep my reputation low.”

“I hear the dental’s great,” Agent snarked. He passed Vanessa a second soda he liberated, placing it in her open hand. She cautiously popped the top, the fizz helping her relax. She took a sip; still carbonated. It would do better with liquid souls, but not bad.

Eventually she gave Agent a small punch on the arm, which Agent turned towards with bemusement. “Hey,” she eventually said. “Thanks for having my back, Agent.”

“We’re friends,” Agent said. He smiled to the witch. “You know I’m always on your side, and no one messes with my friends.”

Vanessa gave a nod back, still appreciative. She leaned in towards Agent, surprising the nerd with a sudden kiss on the lips. Then she pulled back just as quickly, pretending it never happened.

“Alright, time to get dressed,” she said. “And I never want to see a latex glove ever again if it’s not bondage related.”

She got up, prepping her magic to recreate her signature outfit. Agent remained seated, observing the night sky mixed with the glowing embers of justice, and also gasoline-fueled ignitions. He thought of who he was fighting for, and he felt good about himself.

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