Joygirl -- Chronicles of a Villainess

Story by Ravyn

Chapter One - Across From The Mirror

My name is Amy Tirouette. There's not much to know about me except that, like so many people you hear about in comics, I lost both my humanity and my mind when I was exposed to some kind of chemical waste. I'd gotten in a car accident with a semi-truck, and I was fine (the semi was in front), but a strange barrel rolled out and hit my car, some weird gunk splashing onto me....

Once just a normal girl, I now have powers like super strength, speed, reflexes, agility and stamina, a form of regeneration that leaves a lot of scars, and what I call Ultralibrium, a kind of super-balance and lightness that allows me to walk on any surface. These surfaces range from walls and ceilings to even flower petals, spiderwebs and water.

The powers alone would have been cool, but I'm now labelled a paranoid schizophrenic and I have a bloodthirsty split personality who only calls herself Joygirl. I feel terrible about the things I've done, now, but there's not much avoiding it. I lead the life of a supervillain, robbing, killing, the works.

I remember when I first found out, when I got so in tune with Joygirl that I didn't forget what she had done. I was sitting in my new secret lair, which I had bought with money I found stashed and assumed was some form of inheritance. Turns out it was already mine. Though, like a proper inheritance, the previous owners were dead.

Anyway, I was sitting in my comfy chair, listening to Franz Liszt's La Campanella, and reading a newspaper. The headline read "Joygirl Strikes Again!" with a huge picture that was undeniably me, albeit with stylized black and white makeup and a hot outfit I didn't recall having. Then it all came back....

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HIII. I'm Joygirl, the actual star of the comic (Amy's so BORING). I is just a little girl from Noo Yawk with an unhealthy love of clowns (coulrophilia, if you will), and enough whacky superpowers to make life hell for pretty much everyone around me. Pretty awesome, right?

Anywho, it's time for another robbery. With Amy always spending the money I steal on things like stereo systems and new dresses (admittedly, the hideout was a good idea) I have to get more money if I'm gonna buy stuff for a chemistry kit, and bomb materials. Besides, my outfits keep getting bullet holes in them, and black leather costs a lot, y'know?

So, time for another night on the town. I hit the wardrobe, that Amy doesn't know about, strip down, and crawl into my Joygirl costume -- fingerless black leather gloves, strapped on and buckled to the mid-forearm, boots buckled to the mid-calf, black leather pants and belt, and a matching sports bra. There's a method to this madness, in that showing my belly shows my scars, which identifies me. The way my healing factor works, wounds close instantly but always leave scars, which fade in about one-tenth the time of normal ones. In my reckless line of work I get hurt a lot, and I don't want cheap impostors pretending to be Joygirl! Anyway, time for makeup.

White base, dark, exaggerated eyes with a black domino mask around it, and black lipstick, smeared up the cheeks into a smile. I slip two 256 damascus karambits into my back sheathes, and my .454 into my belt holster.

It's time for some fun.

After tying my long black hair into my trademarked twin handlebars (okay, not really trademarked, but I do always use them), I skitter from my lair, up through a manhole at the top. It brings me into a dark, dingy alleyway, just my kinda place, and unknown by pretty much everyone.

I smile and do a cartwheel up the wall of the building to my left, using my ultralibrium to skitter easily to the top of the building. And there she is, my city, a dreary, sombre city all in shades of gray.

A city that doesn't have enough joy.

My city.

I've got a tip from a... well, a friend of mine, if you can call him that. A guy calls himself The Jamaican (pretty on-the-nose, too, if I do say so myself). He found me after my accident, jumping around on rooftops, seeing if I can pick up cars (I can, hihihi), and all of that other brand-spankin'-new-superhuman kinda junk. He took me to this weird kinda lair, a place he calls the SUPERmarket where he gives tips and equipment to fresh villains. And he also acts as a fence (the stolen goods and money kind, not the white picket kind)! Pretty snazzy, I know, and a great partnership... though admittedly he's got a terrible sense of humor. AAAAAAANYWAY, enough exposition for now (Uuugh, the exposition! Are first issues always this hard?), I think you've got the picture, right?

I do a long front-flip from the pawn shop I'm standing on to the adjacent building, a bank, but not my target. I turn to the left, walking to the building's edge and then down the wall.

THIS is my target, a tiny hole in the wall where all the mob bosses have their dealings. There'll be cash inside, and it'll be dirty, but that won't matter much when I launder it through my funny-accente

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