She was twenty-one years old. Astrological sign: Scorpio. Chinese horoscope: Snake. Blood type: O. Single and available, gentlemen.

She had red hair, a veritable forest of summer-time freckles across her nose and cheeks, and a B.A. in journalism officially under her belt. And yes, friends, that did stand for Bad Ass. (Come on, boys. You know you want some.)

She was Maxine Ralls. The rising personality at Wolf News, broadcasting equal-opportunity snark at humans and mutants both, every Friday night on Channel 9 (9.1, local HD users; 29.1, cable and satellite; streaming online at wolfnews.com/EqualInStupidity). She was a strong young woman with a soaring future. (Still approachable, though. Really. Don’t be shy.)

Currently... she was somewhere under that collapsed display. Office Max, Aisle Five: printer and copy paper.

The white packs of 500 sheets made an angry, moving mass on the floor. By all accounts, they shouldn’t be alive. But you just couldn’t argue with them. Trust her: she’d tried.

Maxine Ralls. Office Supply Animator. Control of abilities: somewhat lacking.

“ ‘elp!” Came her muffled cry, from somewhere under the mauling sheaves. Store employees just weren’t trained for this sort of thing.

Allison hummed to herself as she wandered around the office store, resisting the urge to just sneak a bit of ink out of the many, many ink pen refills she passed and searching for larger ink jars. Absolutely no one would know... not the people who used them, not the people who sell them, it wouldn’t hurt anyone, victimless crime, which makes it arguably not a crime at all.... She sighed. But, if I start, I’ll continue, and who knows what I’d end up with. Forging would be simple, just edit a few numbers... damn it, no! She forced her mind stubbornly away from potential less-than-pure uses of her abilities and back toward finding larger jars of ink. Not that anyone who’s concerned with absolute purity would consider tattoos pure anyway. ...What do I even have today, anyway? The thought made Allison pause, and she headed back toward the desks and chairs section of the store, hoping to find a mirror.

A few minutes and confirmation of her appearance later--swirls in varying shades of green, built up over the previous few days and none added today, which would be why she’d forgotten--and Allison continued her hunt through the store. It would be so much easier if I could find ink somehow. Sense it or whatever.

Allison’s thoughts were effectively cut short as she passed an aisle and saw what appeared to be some kind of paper-pack amoeba, sitting on the floor... writhing, or rolling, or something. Allison blinked at the paper thing for a moment, trying to decide if it was safe to approach--mysterious unexplained mass of apparently living non-living objects. Probably not--and then immediately approached anyway, pausing a moment before poking it with her toe.

A toe poked.

From the white mass shot a silver tentacle, aiming to wrap itself around toe and shoe and shin. If it succeeded: a mass of paperclips meshed together in the shape of an octopus would soon be using her as leverage to pull itself free. If it failed: it would writhe from the paper mass, rising up one tentacle at a time like a conquering god.

Octosaurus Rex could not be contained by such traps as this.

In the center of the horde, a hand briefly clawed its way free; then a carrot-top mess of hair (you’d have to forgive her: Maxine’s stylist was out). Finally, a young woman gasped for breath above the parchment sea. Air first: breath in. Exhale: obscenities. She briefly made eye contact with the other red head, standing just outside the assault radius. “Water! Water will—”

And then a pack leapt on the back of her neck. Maxine disappeared again into the voracious horde.

As for Rex: now that it had disentangled itself from the attack, the octoclip did not show any particular concern for its creator.

Allison yelped, skipped back from the metal thing, tripped over a fallen shelf, rolled and was back on her feet, and took a moment out of staring at the--metal... tentacle... squid... ball... thing...--that was emerging from the paper mass to wonder why she could never accomplish such things if she thought about them. Also, why the paper amoeba has given birth to a paperclip kraken.

...And a person. Allison blinked, looking up to meet the eyes of a redheaded, freckled woman--you look more like me than my family does...--who gasped, swore, and said something about water that was immediately cut off by a mini, rectangular paper amoeba pouncing and forcing both the woman and the mini amoeba back into the main amoeba.

This... is one of my more bizarre ink hunts, recently. I think I’ll stick with crafts stores for a while. Water... will what? I swear, if it makes the thing grow, or mutate back into a zombie tree, or something like that.... Allison took a few more steps away from the amoeba before cautiously turning, glancing around to find an employee. One was, fortunately, nearby; watching the amoeba with... well, no more confusion or uselessness than Allison had just been demonstrating herself, but she gave him an annoyed glare anyway. “Well? Did you hear?” He didn’t react in the slightest, and Allison stalked over, placing herself immediately in front of him and glaring at the equally bewildered look she received. “Water. Do you have water?” She didn’t bother to let him answer despite him opening his mouth to do so. “Cleaning buckets, sink, or hose if you have it. Where are they?”

It took maybe five minutes for both ten-gallon buckets to fill from the sink, and another minute or so for Allison to drag them back to the amoeba, abandoning the employee as soon as she deemed him useless. She paused for a moment well outside of where she guessed the amoeba or kraken could reach, then sighed. There just wasn’t any way to get the water to the amoeba without getting herself close as well.

So, she pushed the first bucket over, spilling its contents in the general direction of the amoeba, then put both hands on the edge of the other, and pushed it as quickly as she could move until she reached the amoeba’s side, tipped the bucket over toward it, jumped back, slipped on the forgotten wet floor, fell over backwards and cracked her head on the tile hard enough to white out her vision for a moment as she lay in her just-created puddle, blinking and deciding to just blame the amoeba.

The first bucket had minimal effect. It spilled forwards... and side-wards. A few fringe sheaves got their bottoms wet and started limping away, but the main horde took no notice.

The second bucket, now. Well.

The second bucket caught their attention. Ten gallons of wet will do that, to highly absorbent ex-trees. Packs of paper shuffle-ran across the floor away from the spill; some of the ones closer to the middle actually leapt-levitated briefly before bolting. The ones that the water had landed squarely on... those floundered and struggled towards the edges of the puddle, dragging themselves along. The most water-logged simply quivered in place, apparently unable to move.

Once more the besieged young woman emerged, grinning fiercely as she clambered to her feet. “You,” she told her fellow red head, as she kicked a struggling pack half way to Aisle Nine, “are my new best friend.”

She stuck out her hand. “Maxine Ralls. And you are?”

The paperclip mesh was crawling up Maxine’s leg, one tentacle at a time. A red pen wiggled out of the flattened purse on the floor, and flew up to land in her hair. The red head didn’t seem to notice either.

Welcome to a typical day-in-the-life.

At either end of their aisle, the dry paper packs were regrouping. The rustle of packaging-on-packaging threatened more than paper cuts.

“Do you have a match?” Maxine casually asked her battle companion, pleasant as pleasant can be. “We’re going to set off the sprinkler system.”

Or get mauled trying.

“You. Are my new best friend. Maxine Ralls. And you are?”

Allison blinked most of the white out of her eyes--there was still a bit of white in the center, and black around the edges--and found a hand in the air above her. “Allison.” She shook her head, determined that that did not help with the white or the black at all but did give her a headache, and pushed herself up to shake the woman’s hand. She cast a skeptical glance at the kraken that was clambering up Maxine’s leg, but decided to let it go since the woman didn’t seem to mind. She knew what to do with the paper, anyway.

“Do you have a match? We’re going to set off the sprinkler system.”

“Match? Uhm, no.” Allison’s brain might have been running just a bit slowly. Either the room was swaying, or she was. Probably the room, she felt like she was staying still. And it was only slightly swaying, the amoeba was probably responsible. Unless the kraken was a brain controlling paperclip kraken, and was controlling the woman to make her think it was okay. “You could maybe try using my hair, but you might want to leave reality first.” Come to think of it, water got rid of the amoeba, so fire would probably help it. Or help the kraken. It is a kraken after all. “I shouldn’t have said that. Never mind, my hair wouldn’t be useful. What about more water?” She kicked at the floor, splashing a few drops in the general direction (and maybe a third of the distance) of some of the amoeba, and having to grab onto the shelf next to her as she started to slip again. It’s official. The amoeba is controlling the water. Water is an enemy now. She grabbed onto the shelf, pulling herself up so she was standing on the lowest shelf, and trying to kick the water off her feet.

Being entombed in paper at the time, Maxine had missed Allison’s date with the tile floor. Her first clue that the two had kissed: the disoriented ground-sitting. Her second clue: the hair. Specifically:

>> “You could maybe try using my hair, but you might want to leave reality first.”

What she said.

“We’ll call that Plan B,” Maxine graciously said. “Now. More water is definitely what we need. But no matches means no more water. No more water... means we’d better get out of here before they’re done regrouping.” At either end of the aisle, the paper packs were a roving mass that promised mobbing and mauling to anyone that tried to escape those ways.

Maxine put her hands on her hips, one foot idly bullying a soaked pack as it tried to wiggle away. She wasn’t too eager to risk a dash through the pack lines; she had enough bruises for one day. The makeup artists were going to hate her, come Friday. Maybe she’d get lucky, and someone would try to kill her before then. That attack by Meld last year had made for great sympathy press. She’d milked her cuts and bruises for all they were worth. Getting attacked by her own power? Not nearly as slick.

At her side came a slide and a clatter. Maxine looked over, and grinned.

“Now that is a good idea.” If by ‘good’ she meant ‘something every school kid has always wanted to try.’ “Up and over. Right-o.” Maxine stepped up, joining Allison on the first shelf. “Well. This will be exciting.”

If it got exciting enough, it might even be worthy of a segment. Self-deprecation could make for great TV.

More water. Allison really hadn’t been paying enough attention to what Maxine said--she’d been too focused on hanging onto the definitely swaying shelves--to hear any more, but she’d heard that much. We need... a storm, or something. Indoors. She paused to hold onto the shelves as they swayed more than usual, unintentionally looking down and noticing the packs of paper that had been immobilized by thorough waterlogging. Take that. We need something that can summon storms. I’ve never heard of anything that can do that, except maybe... dragons? And thunderbirds. Either of those could just scare the amoeba away. She blinked, looking again at the waterlogged paper packs, this time deliberately. Huh. Wonder if they can be afraid if they see their other-pieces’ death. They’re alive enough to move, so....

She gave a sadistic grin, hopped off the shelf, holding on for a moment with one hand to adjust to the floor’s swaying, then bent over, grabbed the nearest waterlogged mini-amoeba, and threw it as hard as she could at one of the half-sized amoebas at the end of the aisle. “Here, amoeba! Be afraid!”

Throwing as hard as she could, unfortunately, was a bit harder than Allison had thought, having forgotten about the water’s weight. Combined with the floor’s swaying and a sudden flare in her headache, Allison very quickly began falling; she managed to catch the edge of a shelf, but let go as the edge dug into her fingers, and only managed to send herself falling diagonally at the shelves instead of parallel to them.

The wet paper hit the ground and skidded, with a sound like a whimper. It didn’t go far enough to hit the other packs: nonetheless, they froze.

Maxine hurried to catch the girl as she fell back. She hopped off the shelf she’d started climbing, arms extended. The catch was a success. But she didn’t exactly stick the landing. Maxine’s foot touched down on a slippery patch, and—

Crack, the floor kindly greeted her. At least it was a softer landing for Allison, this time...

At the end of the aisle, the paper packs became even more still: a shiver seemed to run through their packaging. Maxine groaned on the floor: the packs burst wide open, their sheets pouring out in a torrent of individual whirlwinds about three feet tall.

A paperclip tentacle snaked over Maxine’s forehead from her wiry kraken hat. The red head groaned again, and slid up on her elbows. She blearily blinked at the mini-tornados.

“Huh,” she said eloquently. “So, does your hair really do... fire? Because... water. We might need some.” And she’d already left her reality behind...

Allison’s headache flared again, but oddly she didn’t feel the sharp crack of her skull hitting the floor this time. It took a moment for her to realize that that was because it was Maxine’s skull that had hit the floor this time, and not hers. She blinked up at the ceiling for a moment before the---really quite soft--floor below her started to move up. She tilted her head back, wondering what was happening this time, and blinked again as she noticed that there was a Maxine sitting up under her, rather than a moving floor. I wonder how she got there. And why she sat up, sitting up is bad. Laying down is good, my head hurt less that way.

“So, does your hair really do... fire? Because... water. We might need some.”

Allison blinked at the woman for a moment, thinking, before nodding. “Uhhuh. If the sun’s behind it. Yours should too.” She turned on her side, wrapping her arms around the other woman and clinging, stopping herself slightly short of nuzzling the woman’s shoulder and attempting to lay back down again. “But don’t bother. Staying still’s good. Doesn’t hurt.” She closed her eyes, clinging slightly tighter to the woman, and wondering if falling asleep would be possible yet.

“Wha...?” When the sun was behind it? Maxine felt like that... yes, like that made sense. Somehow. It sounded right. So if they could just get some sunlight, they could get their hair on fire. Because it was red.

Oh!

“You’re silly.” And snuggly. If Allison were a guy, Maxine would have pushed her away. That was a little too familiar for a first meeting. But she was a girl. A silly girl. Maxine patted her hair. Come to think of it, Allison had been acting silly for awhile. Like she had... a concussion! She’d hit her head, hadn’t she?

Well then. Maxine just had to protect her.

“Come on. We need to... Get somewhere.” She wobbled to her feet, trying to draw her fellow red head up with her. Where had they been going again?

“Up!” She remembered. “We need to go up.” Up the shelves. It would help.

At the ends of the aisle, the paper-tornadoes were looking a little wobbly on their vortexes. The wobbling was bringing them closer...

Allison shrugged, then came as close as was humanly--well, non-animal-related-mutantly--possible to purring as Maxine patted her hair. I’m not silly.... Cuddling is good. Friendly stuff is good, making lots of people like you. And underestimate you. Useful. So snuggling is good. And you started it anyway, so snuggling is even better.

Allison pouted, attempting to look tragic when the woman started talking about moving, but then suddenly found herself laying on the floor by herself, her cuddle toy of the previous second standing up and saying something about up. She sighed, resigning herself to moving, and grabbed the shelves to pull herself to her feet, then back onto the lowest shelf to get out of the water. She briefly considered simply climbing into the lowest shelf and laying back down there, but it would have taken too much movement, so she simply stood on the shelf, keeping a hold of the higher shelves to stay balanced on the lowest one. They’d mostly stopped swaying, too, which was quite nice, even if her head was still pulsing.

The shelves weren’t swaying at all: they’d never been. Just the floor. It was being as silly as Allison. Hmph. Well, they simply wouldn’t keep company with it any longer.

Maxine climbed. A foot here, a hand there, and whoop!—on to the next shelf. It was actually sort of fun. Way easier than a rock climbing wall. More like… a vertical set of stairs. A vertical set of stairs, where she occasionally had to knock things to the floor to clear space for herself.

Rex helped, by climbing over to Allison, and trying to latch onto her back.

Allison blinked for a moment, watching as Maxine began climbing up the shelves, which were still swaying. Not too much for her to hang onto, though; it wasn’t much different from climbing trees when it was particularly windy. Easier, really, since the shelves were predictable; more like a ladder that happened to be missing every other rung.

Allison squeaked and froze, clinging as tightly to the shelf as something touched her shoulder, and turned her head--there is probably something wrong when I can actually feel my eyes getting wider--to see the paperclip kraken attempting to climb onto her. She blinked for a second, wondering why it would want onto her, which proved to be long enough for the kraken to fully climb on and settle mostly on her shoulder, with tentacles trailing slightly down both the front and back of her shoulder, over her neck and mixed into her hair.

...Oh. I guess I’m possessed now. Allison stopped to consider that for a moment, then shrugged and nodded to herself, the kraken’s paperclip tentacles pulling at her hair. Well, it didn’t make Maxine do anything too bad, nothing worse than making stuff sway. Which it’s still doing. Through me now. So being possessed means I get earthquake powers....

The top of the shelf was entirely and completely stable. If anything, though, the height let her see how much the floor was really moving. Well. Good thing they were up here. Maxine curled her legs under herself and peered over the side.

“Wow. Would you look at that? It’s like… the Great Canyon!” Of Office Max. The gap between this shelf and the next yawned wide and majestic. “Don’t they look just like little zephyrs?” The animator smiled fondly down at the paper whirlwinds below them. Which still seemed to be swaying, in their own right, though they’d straightened themselves out enough to try mauling the lower shelves. Awww. She found their antics much more endearing, from this elevation.

“Now. How do we kill them?” This was the smile of an endeared woman.

Rex, meanwhile, was attempting to braid Allison’s hair, a few strands at a time. Over, under, cross.